The Week
by Naotoki Yamanouchi
Summary: Milo and Camus take a week's vacation to relax, have fun, and learn more about each other's cultures. COMPLETE!
1. Milo's Idea

Author's Notes: I honestly am not sure where this idea came from-it may have been sparked by something I read a while back, I really can't say for sure as I read too much to remember everything. In any case the idea of a friendship-based Milo and Camus fic wouldn't leave me alone. I'm just sick of seeing everyone pair them off. I mean, can't two people just be friends without being lovers? This is my first attempt at an on-going fic, so please be kind, but honest. I guess that's all. Enjoy!

"Now all the blessings of a glad father compass thee about!", the voice of Aquarius Camus could be heard at the entrance way of his temple. "Arise and say how thy camest here..."

"Oh wonder!", Scorpio Milo called from the entrance way, a smirk playing on his tanned features. "How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! Oh, brave new world that has such people in it!"

"Milo?", Camus called, stepping out into the Scorpio saint's line of view. He was dressed comfortably in jeans and a white tank-top, his sleek black hair spilling over his shoulders. In his hands he held a copy of William Shakesphere's _The Tempest_.

Milo threw his own long hair over his shoulder and smiled at his friend. Camus had a habit of reading out loud when he thought no one could hear him. Actually, Milo and Camus both had a strong passion for books, something that usually surprised people about Milo. People automatically assumed because he liked to flirt shamelessly with girls and party he was stupid. His intelligence shocked people.

It was this passion for reading that slowly shaped their friendship. For a gold Saint, reading was really the only escape they had from the sanctuary they where bound to. They tried to meet often to swap books. At one point, it had been hard, and their meetings where once a month, if they were lucky. Now that things had calmed down, they where able to meet a few times a week to swap books or just to chat.

"You can have this atrocity back", Milo said, holding out a copy of Angels and Demons. "After reading The Davinci Code I had such high hopes for that book."

"Well, Angels and Demons was written before The Davinci Code. It's not the sequel.", Camus said, stepping aside and allowing his friend entrance into Aquarius Temple. "Put it back. You know where it goes."

Milo walked past him, to Camus's bookshelf, and scanned the shelf for the spot the book belonged in. Camus had everything on his shelf neatly arranged, in alphabetical order-Author's last name, and then the titles by that author. It was a far cry from Milo's bookshelf, on which he had the books placed haphazardly-some where even backwards-and crammed so close together it was difficult to to slide them in and out.

Camus rose his eyebrows at Milo's outfit. "Going clubbing?", he asked, hoping returning the book hadn't been Milo's excuse to come down and invite him to go with him. The Scorpio Saint had asked him in the past, but Camus was pretty sure he knew him well enough to know he just didn't care for that sort of thing.

Milo glanced down at the tight black jeans he was wearing paired up with a button-up blue top that was hanging completely open. "No", he said simply, brushing his hair from his eyes. He felt the chill of Aquarius temple against his bare stomach and stopped his search so he could button up his shirt. "I was going to, but I'm not in the mood."

"I see", Camus replied, waiting for Milo to continue. If he wanted to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him-and there was something bothering him-he would bring it up himself. To try to pry the information from him before he was ready to give it was like handing a loaded gun to a two-year-old. Milo hated anything that compromised his image and had the tendency to freak out when things made him look bad.

No, there was no mystery with Milo, unlike Camus, who was called an enigma. Milo was an open book. He would start by bringing up something casual. In a round-about way, he would then direct the light-hearted conversation to the serious talk. Camus would give him something to drink-when they'd been younger, it had been a can of soda or a glass of water, now the drinks took on an alcoholic nature. Milo would sip at whatever it was he'd been given and talk. Camus would sit and listen, sometimes for over an hour, and offer advice only after his friend was done talking.

"You know...", Milo said slowly. "A heater isn't a bad thing, Camus."

Camus glanced back at him. "I like it cold. You know where the blanket is."

"The blanket" was a gift Camus had presented Milo on his eighteenth birthday. Interestingly enough in the two years since then the royal blue blanket that bore a huge gold scorpion on it had never left Aquarius temple. It remained folded neatly on Camus's couch so when Milo came to visit he always had something to keep him warm. Very few people where able to stand the coldness of his temple.

Milo picked up the blanket and plopped down on the couch, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. Camus, who was like an older brother to him, was the only person he permitted to see him like that. After all, Milo was sure twenty-year-old Casanovas didn't impress the girls by curling up on their friends' couches with blankets wrapped around their shoulders. They would probably laugh at him. Camus never did.

Camus set two glasses of deep red wine on the table in front of them along with a plate of chocolate cookies and sat down beside his friend.

"What's this?", Milo asked, pointing at his glass.

"Pinot Noir", Camus replied. "It's from France."

"I thought you didn't like drinking."

"I don't like drinking that beer you and Aiolia seem to be fond of. Wine is just fine to me." Camus took a generous swig from his glass, watching Milo out of the corner of his eye.

The younger man picked up his glass and tried not to wince as a strong, complex combination of berries assaulted his palette. Camus's wine was far too sweet for his tastes.

Milo glanced at Camus, who was munching contentedly on one of the cookies. The black-haired man loved chocolate above all other foods-if chocolate could really be considered a food. Milo took a second sip of wine, hoping the taste would be more pleasant than the initial one. No such luck.

"If you don't like it, don't drink it", Camus said suddenly and smirked at the surprised look that crossed Milo's face. "You're very easy to read."

"I can't help it if you're a cold-hearted snake", Milo retorted, taking another sip. He would finish the cursed sweet substance or die trying and he wasn't ready to die yet. Besides the fact that an epitaph reading someone was killed by a glass of wine would look really stupid on the grave of a Saint.

Camus didn't reply to Milo's remark or even bat an eyelash at it. He just set his now-empty glass on the table and reached for another cookie.

Milo sighed. Camus wasn't really cold-hearted. Far from it. He seemed cold to the people who didn't know him because he wasn't very talkative and didn't like showing his emotions.

"Camus...", he said, setting his own glass down even though it was still more than half full.

"Hm?" Camus didn't even bother to look at him.

"Do you ever miss France?"

So that was it. Milo was homesick, but probably felt too ashamed to admit it since he was still in Greece. Camus wasn't sure where exactly it was that Milo had spent the first few years of his childhood, but he was sure it was nothing like Athens.

"I miss it sometimes, but I don't remember it too much. I remember where I'm from is called Chamonix and it was very cold. A lot of people would come to go skiing off of Mont Blanc during the winter season..." Camus closed his eyes as though trying to recall exactly what his childhood home had looked like.

"It sounds nice", Milo said, and he supposed it did. The only things he knew about France where the things he learned reading and that it seemed like the French people enjoyed drenching poor, unsuspecting grapes and berries in pure alcohol, blending them up, and calling it wine. He was just thinking about how nice it would be to go there when Camus interrupted his thoughts.

"What about you?", he asked.

"Oh. I'm from a place called Mikonos. It's not really too far from Athens, but it's as different from Athens as night is from day. Mikonos was always bustling and busy, people everywhere, especially in Mykonos Town. Mikonos also has really nice beaches..." Milo stopped, realizing Camus was staring at him.

"I've never been on a beach before...", Camus said thoughtfully.

"You wouldn't like it, it would be too warm for you", Milo said, sounding a little more cheerful.

"Unless the water is really cold.", Camus replied, hiding a smile.

"We should go one day", Milo's eyes glazed over and Camus could tell he was already imagining it. He knew Milo was already imagining himself back in Mikonos, though he had no idea what Mikonos might look like, chatting with pretty girls and enjoying the sand and the sun.

"You know very well we couldn't do that.", Camus said finally. He knew his blunt words would hurt his friend's feelings, but it was best to bring Milo down now before he got too carried away.

"We could", Milo answered back. "We could take a week or so and go back to our homes. Athena said we could leave, as long as we come back when we are summoned."

Camus regarded Milo for a second.

"Please, Camus", his friend continued, looking like a kid. "I don't want to go by myself."

The look on Milo's face reminded Camus how young they really where. Only twenty, and yet they had shed more blood than most people would ever shed, had walked at death's door more times then they could count, had more deaths on their consciouses than they should. It was easy to forget your youth when your whole life is dedicated to protecting someone.

"Alright", Camus agreed. "But we have to go at Christmas time."

Milo looked at him. "Why Christmas time?", he asked.

"Because Chamonix looks truly stunning in the winter months. If we're going to do this, we're going to do this right."

"If you insist", Milo replied, but he already had an amazing smile on his face, his eyes glowing. He rushed forward and hugged Camus, and action that totally surprised the black-haired man. Milo had never hugged him before. He supposed it was his way of showing how happy he was.

Camus yawned and realized he was very tired. "We'll talk about the vacation closer to the time, OK? I just want to go to sleep right now."

Milo nodded. It was getting late. He supposed he could still hit the clubs if he wanted, but he found he wasn't interested in that. Instead he pulled a book about France off of Camus's book shelf, smiled at his friend, and bid him goodnight.

As Camus watched the last blue curl of Milo's hair vanish from sight he couldn't help but wonder what he had gotten himself into. A vacation with his best friend was going to be interesting to say the least. Running his fingers through his hair and stifling a yawn Camus decided he wouldn't think about that just yet. Instead he went into his small bedroom, changed into sleeping clothes, and fell onto his bed.

Within moments he was out.

End Notes:

I know Camus is supposed to be dead, but hey, that's what fanfiction if for.

Also I appologize if I am wrong about Chamonix, I know little about France and am doing research for the sake of the fic. I will have all the facts straight before I write about them going there.

That's it, really. I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave me a review.


	2. The Flight

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I just couldn't bring myself to post this until I tweaked it a bit. It just didn't sound intelligent enough for me the 1st time around. This chapter has actually been re-written four times. I hope you all enjoy it-I'm still not entirely sure I am satisfied with it. Sorry this chapter's so short. I wanted to get them to Mikonos to start the real fun.

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Five weeks passed by far too quickly for Camus. It wasn't that he didn't want to go on vacation with his best friend, it was just he wasn't sure how spending seven days with the Scorpio Saint in a "normal" setting would affect his sanity. Yet here they were at four in the morning on their way to an airport in Athens to catch their flight to Mikonos.

Camus sighed. He was really tired. Milo had kept him up until past midnight the night before, talking about-well, Camus really didn't remember. He vaguely thought Milo may have mentioned something about Aiolia coming to feed his pet scorpion for him. Camus wasn't lazy by any definition of the word, but he was still a young man and required more than three hours of sleep to avoid feeling totally crappy. Saint or not, he still needed his rest.

Rest however appeared to be the last thing on Milo's mind. Even at four in the morning he was chatting away cheerfully.

"Hey, Camus. Did you know that when Shakesphere was popular women were not allowed on stage? Men played the roles of everyone".

Camus glanced at Milo, mildly interested. He had not known this-mostly because he had never had any interest in how the plays had been acted out.

"Oh, yes. So let's say we were doing Romeo and Juliet. Juliet wouldn't be played by a pretty girl. She'd be played by some guy who from the distance could pass as a girl."

Camus resisted the urge to laugh at the disgusted look on Milo's face. "Are you looking to play the role of Juliet some day? Because I doubt you'd look good in a dress."

Milo punched his friend's arm lightly. "No. I'm too old to play Juliet, as young boys played the roles of girls. Besides, they'd take one look at my handsome face and know I was the one meant for the role of Romeo."

"That didn't sound vain at all. I thought vanity was Aphrodite's department"

"Aphrodite could play Juliet."

"As beautiful as I'm sure Aphrodite would look as Juliet, I am glad we're in a time where women can play the roles of female characters."

"We should definitely try to see a play", Milo said thoughtfully as he tugged his jacket more tightly around his body and pointed to the airport with a gloved hand. "We're here."

"Great", Camus replied. He didn't care that it was cold outside, no. He wanted to get inside and get a cup of coffee.

Milo pushed the door open and led the way into the building.

"It's easy to get lost in here", he warned.

Camus was overwhelmed as a gust of warm air rushed over him. Even at four in the morning the airport was crowded. Mothers trying to calm down screaming children, fathers barking orders to their families, elderly people slowly making their way towards checkout terminals, young couples who where probably heading out for a romantic holiday. Camus had never seen so many people in one building before in his life.

"Camus!", Milo hissed, snapping the black-haired man out of his daze. "Come on. If you get lost I probably won't be able to find you again before the plane leaves."

Camus walked a few feet behind the Scorpio Saint, making sure his eyes never left the wavy blue ponytail. He was very happy when Milo stopped walking and suggested he go sit in one of the about twenty red plastic chairs lined up under a window while he checked them in.

His happiness soon faded away and he winced slightly as the horrible backing of the chair bit into his back. He'd sat on some pretty uncomfortable things in his life-blocks of ice, rocks, Milo's helmet when they were younger and he'd thought it'd been hilarious to put it on his chair-but nothing came close to the discomfort he felt in the chair.

As if the chair wasn't enough punishment for whatever crime he would commit in the next fifty years of his life, he also had to suffer as tons of girls walked past him, looked at him with the same expression he was sure he had on his own face when he had chocolate, and burst into laughter. He didn't understand why they had to giggle like they did. He'd have to ask Milo later-getting dates was his area of expertise.

Camus sighed and let his head drop against his chest, remembering the conversation he'd had with Milo that morning.

"_Camus! Come on! Get up!", Milo had complained, stamping his foot impatiently._

_Camus had opened his eyes blearily to see Milo standing over him in jeans and a black sweater, his hair pulled off his face in a loose ponytail, the usual mischief and amusement gone from his eyes. _

"_No. Go away, Milo", Camus had groaned, pulling his pillow over his face. _

"_Camus!", Milo had cried, tugging the pillow away from Camus's face. _

"_I'll get up later..", Camus protested._

"_No, we have to get there early. Airports are crazier than Shura and Deathmask combined", Milo stated lightly, smacking Camus with the pillow he'd tugged away from him._

_Camus had shot up and stared at his friend in shock. No way. _

Now it was obvious that Milo had not been exaggerating about the insanity of airports. Camus felt his eyes slip closed but didn't bother trying to fight it.

He woke up a little while later to Milo poking his shoulder. As soon as he lifted his head, a cup of warm coffee was pressed in his hands.

"Uh, thanks", he murmured, taking a sip of the coffee.

"No problem. Drink that quick. Our flight is boarding in half an hour. We need to start heading to the terminal".

The blue-haired young man sank into the chair beside his friend. If the girls had been going crazy before, they really where going crazy now. Camus didn't care, though. He had his coffee and Milo was keeping them at bay, smiling and waving to them as they passed.

A short while later, Camus and Milo where on their flight. Camus sighed for the millionth time as two girls sat beside Milo. College girls, he guessed by their appearances. Milo promptly turned his attention to them, chatting quietly with them.

Camus rested his head against the window and decided to sleep through the flight. He was tired and figured he would probably need his energy when they hit the beaches.


	3. Day 1, part 1

A/N: Wow, I waited too long to put this up. Aurora-Chan and my other friends were threatening to throw me into the Sounion Cape. - - shudders - -. I tell you, the world is against Geminis...- - grumbles - -. Anyhow, this is the third chapter of the wonderful vacation of Milo and Camus. May Athena be with Camus during this...

That is all. On with the show!

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"It seems we keep running into each other."

Milo's cheerful voice cut through the bathroom like a knife through hot butter. Camus, who was inside changing into a pair of swim trunks and a white tank top, groaned. Leave it to Milo to find girls five minutes into the vacation and try to pick them up. His best friend was totally shameless.

"...Well, I was going to show Camus the beaches and Mykonos Town...", Milo

was telling a girl. Camus couldn't make out what she said, but whatever it was made Milo laugh.

"...We could all go for dinner together when we get back from town. Jewel sounds like she'd get along great with Camus!"

At that, Camus thunked his head against the marble counter-an action Shura would have done, but something not typical of him. Maybe if he smashed his head hard enough, he would die. No. He couldn't do that. Athena expected them back in one piece.

"Milo!", Camus hissed, coming out of the bathroom and stepping on the scratchy blue rug of their hotel room.

"Oh, good, you're out. I was beginning to think you fell asleep and drowned in the bath tub", Milo said, clasping Camus's pale shoulder with one of his large, tanned hands. His eyes sparkled good-naturedly.

"Milo, what did we agree on before we came here?", Camus asked.

"Ummm...lots of things. I agreed I wouldn't be a shower hog and that I would take my hair out of the drain. I promised not to get you up before six...this morning doesn't count, by the way. We had to catch our flight...oh. I promised I wouldn't put icky stuff in your bed...does mud count as an icky thing?"

Camus rolled his eyes. Milo was deliberately acting stupid now.

"Yes", he said. "But I'll let that slide if you can tell me...what is the most important thing, Milo. I made you promise me three times."

Milo's eyes widened and crystal blue orbs met ice blue. "Ohh...that. Heh. Sorry"

Camus sighed. "Milo, I understand we're here to have a good time, but please, if you're going to flirt with all the women of Greece and France, please, Milo, don't try to hook me up with any."

Milo tilted his head. "Why? You don't like girls, Camus? I mean, I guess it's OK if you like guys, but as your best friend, I have the right to know..."

Camus grit his teeth and resisted the urge to use Diamond Dust on Milo and freeze him where he stood...or maybe Freezing Coffin...Aurora Execution?... all the ideas sounded appealing.

"No.", he finally ground out. "I like girls. You, however, have horrible taste in women and always find the biggest bimbos the world has ever seen..."

Milo laughed. "You still haven't forgotten about Cypria, have you?"

"I think I could die, be reincarnated, die again, and be reincarnated once more, and I still won't forget that beast you call a woman."

"She was quite attractive, though...", Milo sighed as he recalled the woman in his mind. Long, luscious black hair, dark eyes that made time stand still, legs that went on forever...she'd been a knockout in his book.

"The woman had no brain!", Camus exclaimed. "She thought The Catcher in the Rye was about baseball! She kept giggling and twirling her hair around her finger, she drank entirely too much, and then, when she was too drunk to walk properly, she tried to kiss me!"

"People usually kiss on dates...", Milo said slowly.

"A kiss and slobbering all over you date are different things. I'd rather not have a girl drool all over my mouth, thank you so kindly".

Milo sighed. "You're so up-tight all the time, Camus. Loosen up a little."

"I think you're loose enough for the both of us...", Camus grumbled. "But fine. I'll meet this girl. She'd better have a brain, though, Milo."

Milo's tanned features paled. "Umm...and what if...she...you know...doesn't seem all that intelligent?"

"You're afraid of ants, right?"

Milo gulped. "I'm allergic to ants...you wouldn't put ants in my bed would you, Camus? Seriously, they could kill me..."

Camus ignored him and walked over to the window. He pushed the curtains aside and looked out at the hotel's swimming pool. Mikonos had really white sand, he noticed. It looked almost like freshly fallen snow. He had to admit, it was beautiful.

"Cammmmmmmmmuuuuuuuuuuusssssssss...", Milo whined.

"You promised me beaches, Milo", Camus said, hiding a smirk. "Do I need to go by myself?"

"No. If you get lost in Mykonos Town, it might take us until NEXT Christmas to find you. Mykonos Town is built like a maze. Legend has it pirates used to invade the island and get lost within the confusing labyrinth of streets." Milo stretched his arms out over his head. "I'm not sure I believe those stories, but I suppose the streets were made that way for a reason."

"Well, hurry up and change then. I don't want to spend all day in the hotel room."

"Aye ye, mon Capitan", Milo said, saluting Camus mockingly as he hurried into the bathroom to change into beach wear.

Camus rolled his eyes

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"The sand is so white...", Camus said, scooping up a handful of the powdery white sand and staring at it in awe.

Milo, bundled up in a sweat suit and wind breaker, stared, trying to figure out how Camus could stand on the beach in shorts and a tank top and not feel cold at all.

"You've never seen sand before?", Milo asked.

"Of course I've seen sand...but not white like this..."

Camus continued to look at the sand for a very long time, sifting it through his fingers, puzzling at the color of it. When he finally got bored, he pulled off his tank top and headed towards the water.

"If you get pneumonia, I'm not explaining your illness to Athena. You'd better hope Mu will be able to make you better quickly.", Milo murmured as he followed Camus to the edge of the water.

"I won't get pneumonia", Camus assured as he took his first steps into the ocean. He'd never actually been in one before. The closest he'd been to the ocean is when he'd sank the ship Hyoga's mother's body was on to try to toughen his student up. The water wasn't nearly as cold as he'd expected it to be, and he dipped down, letting the icy substance roll over his head.

The cold water seemed to awaken a youthfulness in him. He could get used to playing out on the beach in the water. Ocean air smelled really nice, too, he decided. However, he was sure it would be more fun if he had someone to play with.

Smirking, Camus teleported out of the water and beside Milo. Before the Scorpio Saint even knew what was going on, Camus had wrapped his arms around his waist and had teleported him into the water with him.

"COLD!", Milo shrieked as the water jarred his senses. He was going to die. He hated the cold.

"Umm...Milo...", Camus said

Milo continued flailing his arms, screaming. His hair had come untied from his ponytail, long deep blue strands falling in frizzing curls around his shoulders.

"Milo?", Camus repeated.

Milo stopped screaming and stared at Camus. "What...Is...It?", he huffed.

"You're causing a scene."

Indeed there were many native Greeks staring at the pair-they were the only two in the water.

Milo's crystal blue eyes widened and his cheeks turned bright red. "Ohh...man...", he groaned.

Camus laughed. He knew how much Milo hated compromising his "cool guy" image, even though those who really knew Milo knew he wasn't much more than an overgrown child with an overactive imagination and playboy tendencies.

"Kill me now...", Milo whispered and ducked under the water so all that could be seen was his wavy hair floating on the water surface.

Camus grabbed his arm and hoisted his head above the water. "Drowning's not a pleasant way to go. Kanon's almost drowned quite a few times, remember? He said it's one of the most painful experiences a person can encounter."

"I'll determine that", Milo said.

"Kill yourself after you take me to Mykonos Town. Otherwise I'll have to go by myself..."

"Ah, well. Saga, Kanon, and Aiolia are all native Greeks. I'm sure they'll find you before you starve to death..." Milo broke free of Camus's grip and started to swim back towards the shore.

"Does this mean I'm going to town by myself?", Camus asked, swimming behind him.

"Yes.", Milo said. His clothes and hair were soaked. Just because Camus wouldn't get sick didn't mean he wouldn't.

"Ah, good. I'm glad you gave me your money to hold then", Camus said, swimming faster, until he reached shore.

Milo pulled himself out of the water shortly after Camus did. "You are not taking my money with you..."

Camus merely shrugged and started walking quickly.

The Scorpio saint, who had taken off his wet shirt and jacket and put on Camus's dry tank top, tossed the wet, soggy shirt at Camus's head.

"Oh, so we're resorting to shirt throwing now?", he asked, never one breaking stride.

Milo hurried to catch up with him. "You are such an ass, you know that?"

Camus smiled. "Takes one to know one."

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That's all. Please review. Thanks!


	4. Day 1, Part 2

A/N: Chapter Four, yay. I hope a certain reader finished her homework before reading this fic, of she will find herself in another dimension. That being said, I want to thank WhereCanIGetEyesLikeThose and AuroraExecution for their wonderful ideas for this chapter. You have both supplied me with great inspiration for this chapter, and I'm sure you will reconginze your suggestions when you see them. Thank you both!

On another note, if anyone wants to read English translations to Episode G, I am working on them. Simply go to my profile and click my homepage. I only have the translations for chapters 1 and 2 up, but I'll have the rest of volume one up soon enough, and then I will work on volume 2.

And I'm babbling again. Please enjoy the fic and leave a review.

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"My god, Milo. You have been in there for over an hour! Not even Aphrodite takes that long!", Camus called through the closed bathroom door.

"I'm not talking to you!", Milo called back. "I'm STILL freezing! I hate the cold!"

"There are plenty of things I hate", Camus called back as he dug through his suitcase. "I hate getting up at three in the morning. I hate being set on dates with girls named Cypria...", he trailed off and leaned in closer to his suitcase. He grabbed a pen off the night stand and poked at something red nestled between two of his shirts. A claw shot out, trying to attack the pen.

"Did I mention I hate when you put scorpions in my suitcase?", he asked.

The water stopped running.

"I didn't put any scorpions in your suitcase", Milo sounded confused.

"No? Then what is this? Because I'm pretty sure Aiolia's going to be in shock when he goes to feed your monster and finds out it is missing."

Milo appeared at Camus's side, a towel wrapped firmly around his waist, a second draped across his hair. Camus was dismayed that water from Milo's hair still managed to drip into his suitcase.

"Hey, Cleo has feelings, you know. She was probably lonely". He reached into Camus's suitcase and fished out the little scorpion.

"Cleo?", Camus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Cleo was my mama's name!", Milo replied defensively.

"I'm sure your mama will be so proud to learn her son named a scorpion after her"

"You're mocking me, Camus" Milo placed the small red scorpion on his head and headed back into the bathroom.

"Where are you going now?", Camus asked.

"To finish my bath!", Milo called as he stalked back into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Camus shrugged pulled his copy of Stephen King's The Green Mile out of his suitcase. He propped his pillows against the headboard on his bed and leaned against them to read the book. Milo was doing this on purpose to spite him. He would not allow Milo the satisfaction of seeing him annoyed. Nope. He would patiently wait.

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Two hours later a pair of handsome young men took to the streets of Mykonos town. Camus was in awe. It seemed like the entire island of Mikonos-not just the beach-was white. White walls spread out before them like stone sculptures in fairy tales. The pavement was white, and little old ladies pushed white wagons full of flowers.

"Is there any part of this island that is not white?", Camus whispered to Milo as they passed a group of teenage girls around Athena's age.

"Hm?", Milo asked, turning his attention away from the young girls and looking at Camus. "The tiles inside the town hall are red. That's really it, though."

Camus shook his head. "Those girls are under-age, Milo. You're twenty. They can't be older than fourteen."

"I'm only humoring them. Lighten up, Camus."

"I don't want to have to explain to Athena that you are in jail."

Milo snorted. "Hardly. I only date girls who are over the age of eighteen. You don't have to worry about that."

Hearing those words did little to soothe Camus, however. Maybe Milo didn't mean anything by his flirting-actually, he probably didn't-but that didn't mean some girl's mother wouldn't take it the wrong way.

"Ohhhhhh...Let's grab a snack or something. It's going to be a while until dinner."

Before Camus could even blink an eye, Milo had raced up to a vendor. He returned with what looked like two sandwiches, except they were rolled. A pita-wrap.

"Here. Try this", Milo said, pushing one of the sandwiches into Camus's hands.

Camus took a tentative bite out of the sandwich. Immediately he knew the meat inside was not something he'd eaten before. He rose his eyebrow at his best friend, questioning him.

"Lamb", Milo answered his silent question.

Camus almost spit out the mouthful of sandwich.

"Hey. You eat snails. I don't want to hear it."

Milo wrinkled his nose as though to show his disgust for the snail.

"Escargot, and yes. It is very tasty."

"How is eating lamb different from eating snails?", Milo asked.

Camus found he couldn't think of a legitimate difference. They were both, when you got down to it, types of meat. He sighed and took another bite of the sandwich. It really wasn't that bad. Just weird.

The guys continued on their way down the narrow streets of the town. Camus felt uncomfortable, while Milo was whistling cheerfully. Girls kept looking at them, staring at them, giggling as they walked past.

"Why do they do that?", Camus hissed at Milo.

"Why does who do what?", Milo asked, confused.

"Girls. Why do they giggle?"

"Oh, that. I don't know. They laugh when they see guys they find attractive. It's a compliment. Let's go in there. I want to get something for Athena."

Milo pointed at a shop called Noufaro Jewelry. Camus shrugged his shoulders and followed his energetic friend inside.

Milo browsed through hundreds of interesting charms and pendants. Camus looked at wooden crosses entwined with silver, crosses made of two-tone gold, and other random odds and ends.

"Aha. Here it is", Milo said, pointing to a pendant no bigger than Camus's thumb nail. It was made out of some sort of blue stone, with white and black to make it look like an eye. The eye was encased in gold and hanging from a thin golden chain.

"What in the world would Athena want with that?", Camus asked, not understanding why Milo would buy such an ugly, expensive piece of jewelry for a girl who was their goddess when there were plenty of prettier necklaces more befitting of her.

"It keeps the evil eye away.", Milo explained. "Even though she has her Saints, we can't always be there with her...unless she plans to start taking us with her on her business trips. This will protect her when we're not there."

Camus was oddly touched by this and nodded. After all, didn't they say it was the thought that counted when giving gifts? Milo certainly had put thought into his present for Athena.

After Milo purchased the necklace, they went back on the streets. Camus had forgotten about the half-eaten sandwich still in his hand and gasped in shock when he felt something tug it out of his grip.

"Petro!", Milo said happily, petting the head of a pelican that was enjoying the remnants of Camus's lunch.

"You have a pet pelican, too?", Camus asked. He wasn't surprised, really. Milo already had a pet scorpion. Why not a pelican, too?

"No. Petro is the island's mascot. He walks around and tourists take pictures with him. He apparently likes Gyros."

"I...see...", Camus murmured.

Mykonos Town really was a unique place. It certainly explained Milo's behavior.

Milo glanced at his watch.

"We should start heading back. We have dates tonight, remember?

"How on earth could I ever forget?", Camus groaned. He felt as though he were getting ready to undergo an executioner's blade. Where was Shura when one needed him?

And he'd been having such a good time, too.

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"Milo, what are you doing in there?", Camus cried for the second time that day. "How many showers do you need?"

The door swung open and Camus covered his nose and mouth with his hands as the smell of Milo's cologne assaulted him. Nose rape!

"What on earth is that? Did you go romping through a brothel?", he cried, trying not to gag.

Milo rolled his eyes.

"Seriously. You smell like a skunk getting ready for a hot date."

"It's called Tag. The girls supposedly like it", Milo replied.

Camus hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. The smell of the cologne attacked him in there, too. The entire bathroom was a stink chamber. He ran out of the bathroom, to the window, and threw it open. He sucked in deep breaths of fresh air and prayed the smell would leave soon.

Milo sighed. "Alright, I'll go wash it off..."

Camus's eyes grew huge. Another shower?

"No, Milo, we don't have time...", he managed to get out.

Too late, the shower was already going again.

Camus sighed.

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"So...how's the penne?", Milo asked his date a couple hours later as they sat around a circular table in a resteraunt.

His date, a blond-haired, brown-eyed girl named Star, stared at him questioningly.

"What's penne?", she asked.

"Penne. The pasta...", Milo replied, reaching for the bottle of wine on the table and pouring more into his glass.

"What's pasta? I'm anorexic. I don't eat", Star answered.

Camus shot Milo a death glare from across the table. The brunette seated next to him was no more intelligent than Star. Her name was Jewel, Star's older sister. Personally he thought Jewel and Star had stripper names, but that was besides the point.

"So...have either of you read Brave New World?", Camus asked. He already knew the answer.

"Ohh...That was written by Winston Churchill, right?", Jewel asked.

Camus grabbed the bottle of wine from the table and just chugged.

Milo stared in awe.

"That wine will knock you on your ass, you know that, right?", he asked.

"I don't care", Camus growled.

Jewel giggled and put her hand on Camus's lap.

"You're so cute when you do that...", she purred.

"You have five seconds to remove your hand or I will break it...", Camus hissed.

Jewel pulled her hand away from his lap and glanced over at her sister.

Star shrugged.

"Like, you two are totally boring", Jewel said.

"Yeah, it's like, such a shame good looks were wasted on such lame-os", Star said.

The sisters stood up and walked out of the resteraunt.

For once in his life, Milo was not disappointed to see women go. He looked at his best friend, who was still clutching the bottle in his hand, half-passed out in his viel.

Milo wrenched the bottle free from Camus's hand and drained what was left in it himself.

"Come on, Drunkie. Let's get you back to the hotel room", he said as he tossed money onto the table to cover the bill.

Camus muttered something unintelligible as Milo pulled him to his feet and supported him out the door.

Milo knew he was drunk himself, but he was more concerned about Camus, who wasn't used to such strong wine. The wines Camus enjoyed, while over-powering in flavor, were not nearly as alcoholic as the wines he enjoyed.

Camus suddenly screamed.

"What is it, Camus?", Milo asked. He'd never heard Camus cry out before.

"That was got to be the biggest rat I have ever seen!", Camus replied with slurred speech, pointing at a dog.

"That's a dautson. It's a type of dog", Milo told him.

"That is no dog. That's a rat with legs...", Camus continued.

"Camus, you're drunk. That's a dog", Milo answered.

"Why is the rat barking?", Camus babbled.

Milo made a mental note never to let Camus have Greek wine again.

When they finally made it back to their hotel room, Milo threw back the sheets, helped Camus into bed, and tucked him in.

He staggered over to his own bed, switched off the lights, and promptly fell asleep.

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"Oh, my head...", Milo moaned the next morning as he peeled his eyes open.

"I hate you, Milo...", Camus grumbled. He, too, was clutching his head.

"Hey, Camus? Could you help me to the bathroom? Or get me a glass of water?"

"Did you not just hear me say I hate you?", Camus responded, but he threw back his sheets anyway and climbed out.

He walked no more than five paces before he fell over.

"Damn it", he cursed

Milo laughed at Camus's face. It didn't matter that he was hung-over, too. Seeing Camus with a hangover was well worth any price.

A knock on the door alerted them.

"Room Service!", a male voice called.

"GO AWAY", the two friends cried at the same time.

Just because they were comfortable with each other seeing them in their situation didn't mean they wanted anyone else to.

The two looked at each other and laughed.

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	5. Day 2

A/N: Ok, here's chapter 5. Once again my friends have given me great inspiration. I love you guys. I won't keep you long with rambles. Enjoy!

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"What was that wine made out? Battery acid?", Camus groaned as he slung his arm across his face to block out the sun rays that managed to make it past his closed eyelids. He was back in his bed, fairing no better than he had an hour ago when he first woke up.

"What did I tell you when you decided to chug three-quarters of the bottle? I said Camus, that wine will knock you on your ass. Be glad you're a Saint. A normal person would have had alcohol poisoning.", Milo looked significantly healthier. His eyes sparkled out at Camus as he sipped a cup of water.

"Have I told you that I hate you today, Milo?", Camus asked, slowly prying his eyes open.

"Hey, you're the one who made it so I will get pneumonia, I don't want to hear it", Milo replied.

"You're a Saint, a bout with pneumonia won't kill you."

"Just like you managed to hold all that wine."

"I did hold it. You're the one who got out of his bed to throw up in the middle of the night."

"And I'm not sick."

Camus tried to sit up so he could look at his best friend. He was surprised when he felt the overwhelming pain rip through his head and let out a stream of profanity in rapid French.

Milo watched the scene with both amusement and pity. Poor Camus wasn't used to hangovers. He'd gotten drunk like Camus before-and had found himself in a far more compromising situation.

Milo almost laughed as he remembered two years ago when Aiolia and Shura had taken him out for his eighteenth birthday and all three of them had gotten so smashed the fact that they'd gotten back to Sanctuary at all had been a miracle.

Milo had short-guessed his temple and had passed out on the cold floors of the empty Libra temple. He remembered hearing giggling during the time he was on the floor and had woken up with marks all over his face. He'd recognized the voices of Camus, Shaka, and Mu, and if he didn't know better, he would have sworn it had been Shaka who'd drawn on him. However, even waking up with seven different colors of Crayola marker on his face didn't come close to what happened to Aiolia and Shura.

Aiolia had also short-guessed his temple and had woken up to a very angry Deathmask of Cancer standing over him. Aiolia had returned to Leo temple white-faced and shaking and refused to talk about what had happened to him. He'd learned from that incident, though, and took care never to drink enough to get drunk since then. When Deathmask had been questioned about what he'd done to Aiolia, he'd just smiled and said he'd invited Aiolia to have breakfast with him-which could be interpreted many ways, none of them pleasant. In their childhoods, all of them had had their share of bad blood with Aiolia, but most of them had outgrown it. Deathmask's distrust and dislike for the Leo Saint, however, had worsened into full-blown hatred. Everyone knew that. Breakfast, indeed.

Shura on the other hand had over-guessed his destination and had walked right past his own temple-and Camus's-into Aphrodite's and had passed out in the Pisces Saint's personal sleeping chamber. Shura had woken up to the all-too-familiar scent of roses and nearly had a heart attack when he realized the strikingly beautiful face of the effeminate Aphrodite was inches from his own. Just out of sleep himself, and quite confused as to what Shura was doing in his personal chambers, Aphrodite had taken it upon himself to teach Shura a lesson. Shura had returned to Capricorn temple with a face full of pink makeup and mascara on his already long eyelashes, pink ribbons in his hair, and perfume-Healing Gardens Sensual Therapy in Passion Rose (1), Aphrodite's preferred scent-clinging to his skin. The ordeal had made Shura not talk to them for two weeks since it was their fault he'd gotten drunk and had left him paranoid even after he forgave them. In the two years since that event he carefully guarded any glass he was drinking out of around them. Camus had come out lucky.

Of course Milo knew Camus did not see it that way. The first time a person got drunk was always the hardest on them. As a person got used to alcohol in their system, they found ways to cope with hangovers. Milo found drinking water slowly got his stomach back in order and if he closed his eyes while drinking the water, the headache became manageable. He glanced back at Camus. His friend needed him right now. Hearing Camus swear like a sailor was almost as funny as seeing masculine Shura in makeup and perfume, but he couldn't let it go on.

Milo carefully slipped off his bed and went into the little kitchenette area to get Camus a glass of water.

"Here", he said, pressing the glass into Camus's hands. "Sip this, slowly. It'll help you feel better."

Camus took the glass in shaking hands and took a few sips from it. Slowly, he felt the shaking go away and the pounding in his head eased up a bit.

"Where'd you learn that trick from?", he asked.

Milo smiled. "Believe it or not, Aldebarran."

Camus nearly spit out a mouthful of water. "Aldebarran?"

"Yeah.", Milo shrugged his shoulders and threw his curls away from his face. "We all have skeletons in our closets."

He flipped open his suitcase and started digging through it for fresh clothes. Camus grabbed a pamphlet on the nightstand and flipped through it. It highlighted all the areas a person visiting Mikonos might be interested in.

"What's Ramrods (2)?", Camus asked curiously.

Milo sputtered, lost his balanced, and fell face-first into his suitcase. He sat up, a pair of boxers on his head. "What!?"

"What is Ramrods?", Camus repeated his question. He suddenly had the feeling he really didn't want to know. Milo's face had turned a very interesting shade of red and he looked totally flabbergasted.

Milo pulled the boxers off his head and stared at Camus. "Where did you see that?"

Camus handed Milo the pamphlet and Milo looked ready to throw up. "Drink your water and get some sleep. I don't want to stay in the hotel room nursing my sick friend back to health."

"You're so considerate... so are you going to tell me what Ramrods is..."

Like a flash, Milo disappeared into the bathroom.

Camus sighed and set his water glass on the nightstand. He'd never seen cheerful Milo get like that. It was a pretty neat reaction, though. Next time he wanted Milo to go away-not that it happened too often, but sometimes Milo's cheerfulness was too much-he would just say "Ramrods". The black-haired man leaned against his headboard, feeling somewhat better. If he took another nap, he'd probably be alright. His eyes slipped shut and he let dreams claim him once more.

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"Camus"

Camus groaned and jerked away from the warm hand that was shaking his arm. He wasn't ready to get up yet.

"Come on, Camus. You have to get up and eat something. It's three o'clock already."

Camus bolted up and smacked into Milo, knocking him back.

"Are you serious?", he asked, his eyes widening in shock. "You stayed inside all day while I slept?"

Milo shrugged. "Not the whole time...I bought us some lunch and got tickets to see a play tonight."

Camus found himself feeling bad even though his features remained stoic. He could just imagine how bored Milo must have been by himself in silence.

"Well, don't just sit there. I went down to the market and got all sorts of good things...you like Octopodi(3)?", Milo was rummaging through the bags he'd set out at the kitchenette, his eyes shining.

"Umm...if it's what I think it is, I've never eaten it, but I'm willing to try it"

"Cool. I got some of that and some bread and Sadziki, dolmades, and Saganaki.(4)"

Camus looked as though Milo had just sprouted fifteen heads. "What, what, and what?"

"Just try them. If you don't like them, you don't have to eat them."

Milo set a few pieces of octopodi on a plate for Camus, along with a slice of bread loaded with sadziki, a dolmade, and a couple pieces of saganaki. He brought the plate along to his friend along with a glass of water and made a plate for himself. Milo walked over to his own bed and dropped onto it with his plate of food. He watched Camus, who was picking at his lunch.

"I don't know about this, Milo...", he said.

Milo grinned at him and took a huge bite out of one of the dolmades. "I'm not going to poison you, Camus.", he said once he'd swallowed his mouthful of food. "Try it. You might like it. I like the saganaki-they're the things that look deep fried-the best."

On his friend's suggestion, Camus took a hesitant bite out of one of the pieces of saganaki on his plate. His eyes widened. "This is good".

Milo snorted. "Of course it is. I told you I wasn't going to poison you. Not yet anyway."

Camus didn't respond-he was too busy eating the delicious lunch Milo had picked up. Milo shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to eat his own lunch. It'd been a long time since he'd had such good food. They could talk later.

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After lunch, Camus hopped in the shower and put on clothes appropriate to wear to a theature while Milo changed his clothes.

"So, what play are we going to see?", Camus asked, toweling his wet hair.

"The Phantom of the Opera", Milo replied.

"Oh, I heard that's a good one", Camus shrugged his shoulders. He left what they did in Greece to Milo. When they got to France it was his playing field.

"We'll see" Milo grinned and bounded into the bathroom.

"Your hair looks fine", Camus called after him. He was going to have to time Milo and Aphrodite one day and see who took longer to get ready to get somewhere.

Milo emerged a few minutes later with his tied at the nape of his neck. "Alright. I'm ready now."

Camus wasn't in the mood to mess with his wet hair and decided to copy Milo's ponytailed look, leaving the front of his hair free. He pulled on his shoes and they were all set to go.

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"That wasn't as good as I thought it would be", Camus said as they left the play a few hours later.

"Well, it was a romance." Milo yawned hugely and stretched his arms over his head. "The night's young yet. We could still go to a club or something."

Camus groaned. "Not a night club", he moaned.

"Well, what else do you have in mind?", Milo asked.

Camus looked thoughtful. "We could go back to the beach again."

Milo wrinkled his nose. "It's freezing out", he said pointedly. "I'm really going to get pneumonia."

"I promise I won't drag you into the water this time", Camus told him.

"Alright", Milo agreeded, making a note to put on Camus's jacket after he shed it.

The two young men headed towards the beach. A shriek suddenly caught their attention.

"Camus, someone's being attacked!", Milo gasped, his eyes widening.

"Yes, I will go call the police."

"WHAT!? No, she can't wait for the police to get here. She's being attacked now!"

"Milo, to use your powers to protect someone other than Athena is a gross-Milo? Milo?" Camus sighed-his friend was already gone, probably hoping to play hero to a pretty girl. He headed off in the direction of the scream, hoping to catch up with Milo before he did anything crazy.

By the time Camus caught up with Milo, Milo had knocked out five guys and was kneeling beside a girl who was lying unconscious in an allyway.

"She's hurt. She must have hit her head when she fell", Milo told Camus as Camus walked to his side.

"So, we'll take her to the hospital."

"No, we can't do that. They'll think WE did this to her. How are we going to explain to Athena that we're in jail?" Milo's eyes were round as a coin and wide.

"Ok, so we'll just leave her here. Someone'll find her eventually."

Milo's jaw dropped. "Camus...we can't just leave her here. We have to take her back to the hotel room and watch her until she's better."

"No, we don't"

"Would you leave Hyoga lying in allyway?"

Milo had touched a soft spot for Camus. The black-haired man sighed and looked at his curly-haired friend, who already had the girl craddled in his arms.

"Do you know how weird this is going to look?", he asked.

"Come on, Camus. She has to lie down."

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After they got back to the hotel room, Milo threw back the sheets on his bed and set the girl down on it. He pulled the sheets up to her chin and watched her sleep. She seemed alright, just sleeping.

"Where are we going to sleep now?", Camus asked.

"After all we've been through together, you won't even share a bed with your best friend? How painful.", Milo replied.

Camus rolled his eyes. "I'll sleep on the floor."

Milo shook his head. "No. I will. Don't worry about it."

He grabbed a pillow and an extra blanket and curled up on the floor in the space between the beds.

"Suit yourself", Camus said, and fell into the bed.

Within minutes, he was out

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"GYAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

A scream piereced the air. Camus bolted up, practically jumping over Milo, and slammed his hand over the girl's mouth.

"Shh...", he told her.

The girl knocked his hand away from her mouth. "What are you doing to me!?", she demanded.

"It's not what you think...my friend Milo found you and saved you..."

The girl's eyes widened. "You saved me?", she asked.

"My friend did..."

The girl was clinging to Camus's arms with hearts in her eyes. "You saved me!"

Camus groaned, thankful that Milo could sleep through practically anything. What in Athena's name had he done to deserve such punishment?

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End notes: (1) Healing Gardens in Passion Rose is actually my favorite type of perfume, but my friends tease me about being like Aphrodite, so I figure he can like it, too.

(2) Ramrods...umm...yeah. If you don't know what it is and are over 18, PM me, and I'll tell you. If you're under 18...well, you, like Camus, are destined to be left in the dark.

(3/4)Octopodi is just what it sounds like-Octopus. Sadziki is a type of spread. It is made of yogurt, cucumbers, and garlic. Dolmades are kind of like wraps. They are grape leaves filled with rice, onions, and sometimes meat. Saganaki is fried cheese. Anyhow, that is all for chapter 5. I'm getting ready to send them over to France, and I need some ideas on what they should do. Any ideas would be appreciated. Thanks in advance. Please review.


	6. Day 3

A/N: I don't particularly like this chapter, but I do like my friend's idea of...well, you'll see. Please review and let me know if I should banish myself to the Sounion Cape or not.

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Milo woke up to screaming that morning. He peeled his eyes open to see Camus with a girl attached to his arm.

"What's going on?", he asked.

"HIM!", Camus screamed, pointing at Milo. "It was HIM! HE'S the one who saved you! I wanted to leave you lying in the ally way!"

The girl gasped and stared at Camus, tears in her eyes.

"JERK!", she screamed, slapping Camus across the face. Her gaze then fell on Milo.

"You saved me!", she cried, and threw herself into his arms.

Milo blinked and fell backwards.

This was about the point where Camus decided something was wrong. Milo was a little over six feet tall and weighed close to two hundred pounds. That girl should not have been able to knock him over so easily. Not only that, he usually enjoyed being showered with the attention of beautiful women. What was going on?

"I think I killed him", the girl murmured.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave", Camus said.

The girl nodded and ran out the door. "Sorry I killed you friend!"

Camus rolled his eyes and knelt down beside Milo.

"She's gone now. You can stop playing dead."

"Who's playing?", Milo groaned, staring at Camus out of glazed eyes. "Please tell me she was ugly at least."

Camus shook his head.

"Nope. She was definitely one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen."

Milo groaned and Camus hid a smirk.

"I hate you, Camus", Milo groaned.

"The feeling's mutual", Camus replied.

"I hate you more."

"Well, I hated you first"

Milo chuckled. "Look at us...twenty-years-old, and we've resorted to childish bickering."

"That's because Kyoko-sama didn't let us argue when we were younger." Camus shrugged.

"You started it", Milo said.

"Actually, YOU started it...but anyway. With the girl gone, you can get back in your bed."

"No...no energy to move..." Milo snuggled deeper under his blanket.

Camus rolled his eyes and bent down, deftly hoisting Milo off the ground and dumping him unceremoniously on his bed.

"I really hate you, Camus"

"Save it for someone who cares", Camus replied, crossing the room and fixing the blankets on his bed.

He was interrupted from his obsessive-compulsive cleaning-just because he was a man didn't mean he had to live in filth-by screaming outside the door.

Camus blinked and went to the door to see what was going on. About fifty girls were gathered outside his and Milo's hotel room, screaming.

"IT'S HIM!", one of the girls shouted. "IT'S MR JANUARY!!!!"

Camus promptly slammed the door shut and gave Milo a questioning glance. "What the hell is a Mr. January!?"

"Oh, by Athena...hang on. I'll go tell them they've made a mistake", Milo murmured, getting off the bed and going to the door.

If the girls were going crazy before, they were really going crazy now.

"MR MARCH HAS HIS HAIR DOWN!!!!"

"MR MARCH AND MR JANUARY ARE SHARING A ROOM TOGETHER! HOW COOL!"

"WAHHHH...HE'S EVEN CUTER IN PERSON!!!!"

Milo slammed the door shut again and leaned against it, looking like he was about to have a heart attack.

"Oh, God, Camus. They think we're both Playgirl models."

"So? Go out there and tell them they're wrong. You like women."

"Right. I like women. These are demons sent from the underworld by Hades himself to suck out our souls", Milo replied.

Camus rolled his eyes.

"You read too much, Milo. Remind me not to let you borrow any more of my books."

"Where are you going, Camus!?", Milo gasped, grabbing the black-haired man's hand, trying to keep him from going to the door.

Camus shook Milo's hand off and walked to the door.

"I'm going to tell them they're wrong."

"Don't say I didn't warn you", Milo said.

He huddled in the corner as Camus went outside and his screams died away in the roaring wail of screeching fans.

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Camus came back in the room a few minutes later, looking battered, bruised, and basically not good.

"I told you", Milo said.

"Oh, my God.", Camus muttered, clutching his chest. "There were so many of them! I'd rather fight the Titans again than face them!"

Milo got up and got his friend a glass of water to calm him down.

Camus drained the water in one gulp and tossed the rags that used to be his favorite sleep shirt to the floor.

"DON'T GO SHIRTLESS!", Milo gasped. "They'll really go mad, and then it will be so long Aquarius"

"MR. JANUARY IS AN AQUARIUS!!!" one of the girls yelled.

Camus thunked his head against the window.

"Damn you, Saga!", Milo screamed. "This is all your fault!"

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Back in the Sanctuary, Saga was playing Chess with his twin brother, Kanon. He sneezed.

"Are you getting sick?", Kanon asked.

"Don't try to distract me because you're loosing", Saga replied.

His ears then started burning.

"Someone's talking about me", he muttered.

Kanon rolled his eyes.

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"So, what are we supposed to do since we can't leave the hotel room?", Camus asked.

Milo held up a deck of cards and dealt some out to Camus.

"Got any twos?"

Camus quickly glanced at his own.

"Go fish."

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A/N: Yeah, I know this chapter sucked...It'll get better next one, I promise. They're going to France.


	7. Day 4, part 1

A/N: And after a long, drawn-out wait in which I researched France like mad and had a French friend of mine assist me, I present chapter 7 of The Week. The reason there wasn't as much of a gap between updates when they were in Greece is because I wrote about a section of Greece I am familiar with (the only reason I picked Mikonos over Milos Island for Milo's place of origin). But I have enough info now to make it sound like I at least know what the heck I am talking about, so updates won't be so far between. And I am rambling again. I will stop now. Enjoy the update!

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"Milo...Milo, wake up. We're here", Camus said, lightly shaking Milo's shoulder.

It was a repeat of three days ago, only Milo was the one sleeping and Camus was the one shaking him to get him up.

"Go away, Camus", Milo groaned, sounding nothing like his usual, energetic self.

"Come on, Milo...Taxis are not good beds...and anyway, if you stay in the taxi, you can't see the hot springs..."

Milo sprang awake.

"Hot springs?", he asked.

"Yeah, you know...those warm pools of water...", Camus tried to hide a smile.

Milo sat up straight and gazed at the resort they had just pulled up to.

"Wow...that is a big mountain."

"Yeah, that's Mount Blanc", Camus said. "We can go skiing if you want."

Milo eyed the huge mountain nervously.

"On that?", he asked.

"Right. From the top, all the way down. You're a Saint..."

Milo stared at Camus, horror dancing in his light blue eyes.

Camus burst out laughing.

"I hate you, Camus", Milo hissed.

"Feeling's mutual", Camus replied

Milo opened his mouth to speak, but wound up instead in a coughing fit.

Camus frowned.

"That doesn't sound very good."

"Ah, I'm fine", Milo said, waving his hand. "I'm just not used to the cold."

"We've been here twenty minutes."

"That's long enough for me to understand why you trained your students in Siberia."

"I do enjoy the cold weather-though I will admit there were times in Siberia where I needed a coat, too."

"Are you serious!?", Milo asked. He was horrified just _thinking_ how cold it must have been for the Gold Saint of Ice to need a coat.

"Oh, yes. When it's one hundred degrees below zero and you're not wearing cloth because your students don't have cloth, you might need a coat."

"ONE HUNDRED DEGREES BELOW ZERO!?", Milo cried, then started coughing again. He'd visited Siberia a couple of times-bundled up so much he looked more like a ball than a human-but he'd never imagined it got that cold.

"Ok, so it was more like forty below, but with the wind chill factor-" Camus found the horrified expression on Milo's face very amusing. He would have to add "freaking out Milo" to his to-do list more often.

"I would have died."

"If two eight-year-olds were able to get used to it, you would have, too."

Milo observed the twinkle in Camus's eye-the faintest glimmer of affection he got when he thought or spoke of Hyoga and Issac-with jealousy. He wondered how unfit to be a teacher people thought he was when Shaka, the second most anti-social person on the planet (Phoenix Ikki would always be first), had been given students, but no one had approached him to train new saints. He shook his head to rid himself of the thought.

"Those eight-year-olds were braver than I'll ever be, because I would have died in two minutes."

"You would not", Camus said.

"Ok, I would die in three minutes."

The two young men walked into a cozy hotel lobby. The inside was every bit as elegant as Mykonos Town had been whimsical. Milo rushed over to the crackling fire of the fireplace, too thankful it was there to wonder why it was there. Camus shook his head and walked to the desk to check them in.

"Une moment si vous plait", the harried woman at the desk told him as she tried to straighten out her millions of piles of paper work.

"Merci", Camus replied.

Hearing someone using French again, and even better, actually getting to use French again, even when just saying thank you to someone who was asking him to please wait a moment made him feel more comfortable than he had felt in a long time. He smiled, thankful he had allowed Milo to talk him into taking the trip.

Speaking of Milo...

Milo, being Milo, had already gotten himself surrounded by a pack of girls. He didn't speak a word of French, but he had a pretty good handle on English, and it appeared the girls were American. Camus shook his head. Some things would never change. Be it Greece, France, or Japan, Milo would always find girls to flirt with.

"Monsieur?", the woman called to him.

Camus turned his attention back to the woman and handed her his check-in papers. It didn't take too long once she saw that they were here on funds from the Grande Foundation. After he was checked

in, he walked over to Milo.

"Come on, Casanova", he whispered in Greek.

Milo smiled at the girls and excused himself. As they walked away, Camus could hear the girls giggling and talking excitedly. He shook his head again.

"So what are we going to do now, Camus?", Milo asked excitedly as the headed to their hotel room.

"You are going to have some hot chocolate and take a nap so your cold doesn't progress to pnemonia", Camus replied.

He'd had enough dealing with sick people the first year he had Hyoga and Issac in Siberia to last him his whole life. He remembered the horrible incident when they'd contracted the chicken pox at the same time. That had been the worst. He did not want to deal with a seriously ill Milo, who he was sure could whine enough to make the Hyoga and Issac with chicken pox ordeal seem like a walk in the park.

"I'm a gold saint, like you said. I'll be fine. It's just a little cold", Milo replied.

Camus regarded his friend. On one hand, he had heard Milo's awful coughing...but on the other hand, Milo was flirting and seemed to be his usual cheery self. How sick could he be if he had the energy to bounce around?

"Well, we _could_ go ice skiing", he suggested.

"From the top of Mount Blanc?", Milo asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"Nah. We'll get an instructor to help us", Camus replied.

He swung the door open to their hotel room and set his suitcase neatly on one of the beds.

Milo flung his suitcase on the ground at the foot of the other bed and promptly started to dig through it.

"Hey, Camus?", he asked.

"Hm?", Camus asked. He was taking his time, checking to make sure the room was clean and dust-free.

"What do you wear to go ice skiing?", he asked.

"Shorts and a tank top", Camus replied dryly.

"I'm serious, Camus."

"Well, a ski suit would be idea, but as neither of us owns one...wear sweatpants, a sweatshirt, you coat, gloves, a scarf, earmuffs, and a hat."

"Are you going to wear all that stuff?", Milo asked.

"Nope. I don't freeze to death in 10 degree weather."

"I forgot, you're not human..."

Camus smiled at that.

"One could say the same of you."

Milo shivered.

"Camus, there's no way I can go on a mountain in sweatpants. I'm inside and I'm freezing."

"Hmm...you could always wear your cloth..."

"Except we're not supposed to wear cloth if we're not in the Sanctuary unless we're in battle."

"I know...but I'm not the one who is freezing."

"Camussssssssssss...", Milo whined.

"Ok, ok. We'll go get ski suits. Be warned, this isn't like Mykonos Town."

"We'll see what we see, won't we?", Milo asked.

He pulled his coat back on and replaced his hat, scarf, and gloves.

Camus pulled on the light jacket he'd brought to wear so he'd blend into the crowds.

"Come on, let's get this over with."

He tucked the room key into his jeans pocket and lead Milo out of the room. This was going to be a very long four days.

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Another short chappie, I'm sorry, but I ran out of stuff to write. I wanted to dedicate a whole chapter to the ice skating incident...You'll see. Anyhow, I do not speak French, but I do have a French friend who was kind enough to give me a few phrases I could use in my fic. I hope you liked this chapter. I thought it was a good intro to the havoc and fury they will wreak upon France...Drop a review.


	8. Day 4, Part 2

A/N: Can you believe this is at 8 chapters already? I can't... It's almost done. Hehe. I'm excited about finishing this. It will be the 1st long fic I have written in entirety. Amazing. Anyhow, I won't keep you long with senseless babble...Enjoy!

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"Wasn't there a Chamonix Valley mentioned in _Frankenstein_?", Milo asked. "Where the doctor met the monster for the first time?"

Camus smiled.

"Good memory", he said approvingly. "Yes, the Chamonix Valley in _Frankenstein_ is the very same valley we're in now."

"That's good to know", Milo murmured.

He was shivering, his hands pushed deep into his jeans pockets. Camus shook his head.

"You need blood, Milo", he said.

Milo shot him a glare that would have frozen the very tip of Mount Blanc.

"I can't help it if you're a freak and find this kind of weather warm", the Scorpio saint retorted.

Camus shrugged.

"Have you ever read _Eiger Dreams_?", he asked.

Milo shook his head.

"It's a collection of stories about rock climbing...In one story, Chamonix was described as the death-sport capital of the world", Camus explained.

"Ohhh...goodie. So we're in Deathmask's ideal vacationing place. This just keeps getting better", Milo mumbled.

"I doubt you have to worry about falling off a mountain." Camus grabbed a tendril of his hair that was trying to choke him and pushed it away. He'd forgotten about the wind and wished he'd copied Milo in wearing a ponytail.

"How much further do we have to walk, Camus?", Milo asked.

"We're here now", Camus told him.

Milo's eyes swept an outdoor shopping center similar to the ones in Mykonos. Ladies bundled in coats and scarves called to them to purchase home-made cakes and blankets.

"Those women are crazy", Milo whispered.

"You do what you have to do. For some of those women, selling things in the marketplace is their only source of income", Camus whispered back.

Milo's eyes briefly flashed with pity.

"Come on', Camus said. "There should be a shop that sells ski equipment up ahead. I'll help you pick out something that's decent."

"Good, because I know nothing about ski suits..." An impish grin crossed Milo's handsome face. "If you ever need help picking out a swimsuit, though, I can help you do that."

Camus glared at him and Milo burst into a fit of laughter. He coughed into his gloved hands, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Milo, the day I wear a pair of swim trunks is the day Shaka goes goth."

Milo winced as he imagined Shaka with his long, long hair dyed black, wearing tight black pants with pinks in them and an even tighter black tank top that had a skull and crossbones on it. The Shaka in his vision still carried his wooden prayer beads, but they, too, had turned black.

"A Gothic Buddha...", he murmured.

"Not a pleasant image, is it?", Camus asked.

Milo shook his head.

"Didn't think so"

They walked into the ski equipment shop with a companionable silence between them.

A little while later they arrived back at the hotel. Milo changed into the ski suit they'd purchased while Camus pulled on gloves and the one thick jacket he owned. Camus then bound his hair at the nape of his neck and waited for his friend to finish changing.

"Better now?", he asked as Milo stepped out of the bathroom.

"A little", Milo replied.

"Good. The session starts at two, but it won't hurt to leave now and get there early. Unless you're hungry?"

"Are we eating snails?", Milo asked skeptically.

He looked almost exactly how Hyoga had when Camus had tried to assure him and Issac that their grape medicine tasted like candy and not "icky grossness". Camus almost laughed at the fond memory.

"Did you feed me lamb?", he answered his friend's question with a question of his own.

Milo wrinkled his nose, now looking like the child who took the medicine and realized no matter what Sensei said it was still gross, but he did not argue.

Camus chucked.

"Don't worry, we wouldn't be able to get escargot and make it to the ski session. You're safe for now."

"So what is on the lunch menu?", Milo asked.

"I'm thinking whatever we took with us from the hotel."

"Ohhh...left overs. How exciting."

"Well, I'm not hungry, so I will live", Camus shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm not hungry, either."

Camus glanced at his friend. Not hungry? Usually whenever Milo came to visit him, he wanted a snack. This was not normal.

"Do you feel OK, Milo? You're not looking too good."

"For the last time, I'm fine. I'm just not used to freezing to death even when I'm inside!"

Milo's voice grew higher-pitched and huffy.

Camus was not convinced, but decided to let Milo be. He was a grown man and could take care of himself. He knew that admitting he was sick was viewed as weakness is Milo's eyes. When he passed out on the top of the mountain, Camus would drag him back and make his life hell on earth.

"Let's go", Milo said.

Camus sighed.

"Suit yourself"

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A little while later, Milo found himself seated beside Camus on a ski lift. Milo did not like the idea of trusting a flimsy wooden seat to support the nearly four-hundred pounds of his and Camus's combined weight, plus the weight of the people seated next to them, so he kept himself occupied by keeping his attention focused on the young couple that shared the lift with them. They weren't much older than he and Camus were. The young woman seated beside him had a round, gentle face that reminded him a little of Mu. Seated at the end of the lift was a young man with broad shoulders and a strong, athletic build. Milo's mind wandered, and he found himself imagining a fantasy life for them.

In his mind, the couple became Americans enjoying a winter holiday in France. The man became an FBI agent even though Milo knew he was too young to be in the FBI. The girl was a school teacher for kinder gardeners. They lived in a modest yet comfortable house, and every night the man brought flowers home to the girl to show her how much he loved her. A smile crossed his face.

"What's going on in that head of yours?", Camus whispered, pulling Milo from his thoughts.

"Not much, just thinking...", Milo whispered back.

"So that's where all the smoke is coming from. I wondered", Camus replied dryly.

"Very funny", Milo said.

"Wasn't meant to be funny", Camus responded.

"I was just watching the people next to me", Milo admitted softly. "I like putting stories with strangers."

"Oh?", Camus asked, raising one elegant black eyebrow.

"Yeah", Milo dropped his voice so he was sure only Camus would hear him. "Like the girl? She's a school teacher and the guy's her husband. She's a school teacher, and he's in the FBI. They live in America in a small but comfy home and he brings her flowers every night."

"Well, how about this story? She's a cancer patient who only has five months left to live, and her dream has always been to go to France. Her husband drained their life savings so he could take her just once before she dies."

Milo gaped at Camus in open-mouthed shock.

"That's a horrible story!", he cried so loudly the girl turned to stare at him, a confused look on her gentle face. He gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry"

The girl turned her attention back to her lover.

"That's a horrible story", he repeated in a softer voice.

"Life's not all sunshine and rainbows, Milo", Camus said. "As a gold saint, you of all people should know that."

"I do, but I'm not going to sit here and imagine awful things happening to people I don't even know."

"My scenario is just as possible as yours", Camus pointed out.

Milo crossed his arms and pouted.

"You are such a kid sometimes, you know that?", Camus asked.

"I have not forgotten that I am only twenty years old and can still have dreams, however small they may be."

Camus sighed.

"I gave up on foolish wishes a long time ago."

"So that's why you sank the ship Hyoga's mother's body was on? To show him it's foolish to have dreams?"

Camus closed his eyes. Milo's words stung. He hadn't wanted to hurt Hyoga as badly as he had.

"I'm sorry, Camus", Milo apologized. "I went too far."

"It's alright. Don't worry about it. I'm equally at blame here", Camus replied. He knew his friend wasn't feeling well and, despite the sting of his words, Milo had not been trying to hurt him.

Camus noticed they were reaching the top of the beginner's course and nudged Milo's shoulder.

"When I tell you to, touch both feet to the ground and ease off the lift. Otherwise you'll be taken to the advanced course."

"Where's the advanced course start?", Milo asked. The look in his eyes suggested he already knew.

"The top", Camus affirmed his fear. Then he added "Milo, if I didn't know you better, I would swear you were afraid of heights."

"Not the heights...this lift"

"Ok. Feet down", Camus told him.

Milo slammed both his skis into the soft snow so hard he nearly lost his balance. Camus set his feet down gracefully.

"Now what?", Milo asked, staring at his feet. "I'm not used to having wooden rails strapped to my feet."

"You're going to use the sticks to maneuver your way down. The skis will help you guide down. This is a straight slope, though, so you won't need the sticks too much. Just make sure you don't hit any trees."

"Right", Milo murmured.

"Just follow me", Camus said.

He pushed off with his ski sticks and demonstrated to Milo how to maneuver. His friend followed suit.

Camus allowed himself to get lost in thought as he skied down. He could vaguely remember his childhood before Sanctuary. He'd lived with his uncle, who would take him skiing almost every weekend. His uncle would bundle him up and take him to the valley and teach him how to ski. He couldn't remember much of his uncle, but he remembered him to be a quiet man with a good heart. He sighed. Maybe Milo was right-maybe he was missing out.

A girl screamed, and Camus jerked his head in the direction of the yell in time to see Milo falling face-down in the snow. He hurried to his friend's side. For a regular person, skiing uphill would have been near impossible, even on a slight slope, but Camus was able to do it.

"Milo!"

"I don't think I like this, Camus", Milo replied, pulling himself upright.

Camus reached his hand out even though he knew he wasn't the best judge of temperature and frowned.

"Milo, we're going back to the hotel room-now. I am not explaining to Lady Athena that you have pneumonia because your stubbornness kept you from staying in bed for a day."

"If I argue with you, will you listen?", Milo asked.

"Not this time", Camus replied. "Now, follow me. We're going to go down very slowly and then we're going back to the hotel."

"Fine", Milo relented.

The two started their slow trip down.

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"Put these on and get into bed", Camus said, tossing Milo his pajamas. He felt like he was back in Siberia, trying to force a sick Issac to get into bed.

"But Camus-"

"Now", Camus's tone suggested their was no room for argument.

"But it's hot in here!", Milo whined.

"Then I will open the window after you're in your pajamas and in bed."

Milo sighed and changed into his flannel pajamas and climbed into his bed.

Camus opened the window and went into the kitchen area. He made a cup of hot chocolate and brought it back to Milo.

"Here. If you get some rest, your cold should go away by tomorrow and you'll be fine."

Milo took the hot chocolate.

"Umm...Camus?"

"Yes?", Camus asked, dreading the request that would come.

"Can you close the window? It's cold in here!"

Camus sighed. It was going to be a long night.


	9. Day 5, Part 1

A/N: 9 chapters and counting...we're reaching the end here. Enjoy!

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"Do you have any idea how weird this looks, Camus?", Milo asked from his bed.

"Yes. I do. And it is sad, too, because you are twenty and I had to strap you down like some eight year old with chicken pox. Honestly, Milo, how hard is it to stay in bed? You could have been better by now, but no. You had to sneak out of bed last night and go to the night club."

Milo looked at his wrists, secured to the bed posts with two of Camus's belts.

"I was actually thinking something else entirely...", he trailed off.

Camus glared at him.

"Wipe that smirk off your face."

"Can't. I'm all tied up at the moment..."

Milo laughed at his own joke.

Camus wondered what he had done to deserve such punishment.

Milo stopped laughing.

"Do you really have to hold me hostage..." he feigned a gasp. "I'll be a good boy...I'll do all my homework, and wash behind my ears, and eat my vegetables..."

"Not working...", Camus said, trying not to laugh at his friend's antics.

"Ohh...please let me goooooooo...", Milo continued in a whining voice. "I promise to stop throwing the dog out the window if you do..."

Camus stared at his friend.

"I have never heard of a normal child throwing a dog out a window..."

Milo sat up as straight as he could with his wrists secured to the bed posts.

"I'm sure Deathmask threw puppies out windows..."

"I said normal children", Camus reminded him.

"So will you let me go now?", Milo asked.

"I don't know...having hotel security come to the room at four in the morning to inform me my friend is passed out in the clubroom downstairs because he shouldn't have been drinking but did anyway warrants punishment, don't you think?"

Milo didn't answer him.

Camus chanced another glance at his friend, who was sitting with eyes as round as coins.

"Camus...", Milo hissed, sounding very excited.

"Hm?", Camus asked.

"It's Christmas eve, Camus..."

"Very good, Milo, I'm glad you're still sober enough to keep up with the dates."

Camus smiled none the less.

"I've been sober-I didn't drink that much last night."

"Right. Well, I'm going to go down to the front desk and see if they have any guides of events going on tonight. You can stay there and think about what you did."

"Does this mean I get to to tie you up next time you get drunk?", Milo asked good-naturedly.

Camus was under the impression his friend was enjoying this.

"Trust me, I will never get drunk like that ever again, because that is the last time I ever let you set me up with a girl."

"I see...so I get to just hang here while you go downstairs...That's not very fun..." Milo pouted.

"Punishment's not supposed to be fun"

"Well, what happens if the cleaning staff comes in and sees me strapped to the bed? You'll have a lot of explaining to do."

Camus sighed, realizing Milo was right.

He walked over to his friend's bed and released him from his make-shift restraints.

"If you're not here when I get back Milo..."

"I get it, I get it...You're angry at me and if I value not being frozen I will stay in bed..."

Camus smiled lightly.

"Well put."

He pulled on sneakers and looped one of his belts through his pants.

"So stay here."

"Yes, Dad", Milo muttered, leaning against his pillows like a cranky child.

Camus didn't answer him as he tucked his room key into his pocket.

Then he left the room.

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Camus was completely lost in his own little world as he walked down to the lobby. He was so gone, he didn't notice the young woman walking in the opposite direction until he smacked right into her. He caught her instinctively and steadied her so she wouldn't go crashing to the ground.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, mister. I didn't even see you coming!", the girl gasped.

Camus looked at her, both surprised and refreshed by what he saw. The girl had blond hair of a modest length and blue-green eyes. She wore no makeup on her face, her eyelashes were clearly her own, and her clothes were simple and well kept. She was so different from the girls Milo kept setting him up with he found it difficult to take his eyes off her. He mentally slapped himself. Clearly his time with Milo had turned his brain into a puddle of oatmeal.

"It's OK", he told her finally. "I should have watched where I was going myself."

The young woman bunched a fistful of her ankle-length skirt in her tiny hands and gazed at the ground.

"I was just so caught up in the fund raiser tonight..."

"Fund raiser?", Camus asked.

"Oh, yes. Every Christmas eve there's a charity event for the children. We raise money for cancer patients and Santa Claus comes and gives presents to the little ones. But our Santa is sick, and I have no idea where we would find another one on such short notice...", she bit her lip. "I don't want to have to tell a bunch of little kids with cancer Santa isn't going to make it..."

Her story touched Camus, who had a weak spot for children. Santa Clause?

A light bulb seemed to go off in Camus's head. Milo would be more than willing to play Santa for the kids...

"What's your name?", he asked the young woman.

"It's Anna...", she said, sounding slightly confused.

"I think I might know someone who can help you, Anna. I'll go talk to him and see if he's up for it."

Anna's eyes glowed.

"You do? Oh, I hope he'll help us! Oh, thank you...umm..."

"Camus", he said.

"Thank you, Camus!"

"He doesn't know any French, though...we're visiting from Greece. Would that pose a problem?", he asked.

"No", Anna said. "Can he speak English?"

"Yeah, he knows English...", Camus replied.

"Then he'll be fine."

"I will go talk to him. Meet you back here in an hour?", he asked.

"Yes, that sounds wonderful", Anna said, clasping his hand in both of hers. "Thank you so much!"

Camus kept his expression stoic, but felt unusually happy.

"Be back in an hour", he said.

He walked back to his room hoping Milo had followed his orders and stayed in bed.

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"You look happy. Did you finally find yourself a girlfriend?", Milo asked as Camus entered their room.

"Not quite...but this does involve a girl", Camus replied.

Milo set his book down on his lap-or rather, Camus's book. He'd taken Camus's copy of The Green Mile.

"Well, spill."

"I ran into this girl downstairs, and she seemed a thousand miles away. She finally told me about her Christmas eve fund raiser for children with cancer, but their Santa Clause is sick and can't make it tonight..."

"And you volunteered to be Santa? Wow, Camus. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Again, not quite. I came up here to ask you if you would be Santa for her."

"Well, I don't know...you did leave me strapped to my bedposts for two hours...", Milo said.

"Actually, it was longer than that, you were just passed out", Camus replied.

"That's a great way to convince someone to help you", Milo said, but he was laughing none-the-less.

"You know I can't pull off the jolly-guy act, but you're pretty cheerful on your own. And it's for the kids. I would do it myself if I knew I could pull off a convincing Santa, but I can't."

"You do raise a point", Milo said between laughter. "I don't think the kids would be convinced by a Santa that won't even smile. Ok, I'll do it. It's not like we have other plans for the evening or anything. The clubs are closed tonight."

"Yes, yes they are. And they're closed tomorrow night, too. And then we go home. Sad to say, but you're going to have to spend the rest of this vacation sober."

Milo rolled his eyes.

"I could go buy some alcohol...but staying sober sounds much better than accidentally buying a bottle of that stuff you drink..."

It was Camus's turn to roll his eyes.

"Glad to hear it. Now get up and get dressed. We have to go meet Anna in an hour."

"So Anna is the name of the girl that somehow managed to capture the heart of our stoic ice prince and make him feel some human emotions...she must truly be an extraordinary woman..", Milo teased as he climbed from his bed and rummaged through his suitcase for some clothes to wear.

"Well, she doesn't prance around in mini skirts and those cut-off tops the women you like wear. Nor does she wear makeup and false eyelashes."

"Hey, the only one who wore fake eyelashes was Cypria."

"And she was a monster", Camus replied.

Milo shrugged his shoulders and went into the shower. While he did that, Camus reclaimed his book, happy to see his friend had at least marked his place for him. He grabbed a scrap of paper and marked Milo's place, then opened up to where he left off and continued reading.

Milo emerged from the shower about forty minutes later, fully dressed except for his shoes, his wet, curly hair hanging around his shoulders.

"I don't even want to know what takes you so long...", Camus commented, marking his place in the book and setting it down on the nightstand.

Milo shook his hair at Camus.

"You don't have to deal with curls. It takes a lot of work to keep them looking nice and not a frizzy mess."

Camus rolled his eyes.

"Vanity is a bad thing, Milo."

"How is it vain to not want to walk around with hair that looks like a bush? It's not like I wear makeup..."

"Fair enough. I'll let it go this time. But only because we're running late and I don't have time to deal argue with you."

"You'd lose anyway", Milo said, pulling his shoes on. Then he added "Are we staying in the lobby? Should I bring my jacket?"

"You may want to wear your jacket, you'd probably find the lobby cool. But no, we're not leaving the lobby."

Milo threw on his jacket and tied his hair back.

"Ok, I'm ready", he said.

The two friends left to go meet Anna and get clued in about the Christmas charity.


	10. Day 5, Part 2

A/N: Ok, so after I lost this chapter the 1st time I typed it, I admit I got a little disheartened. It took me forever to get the will to re-type. Then I reminded myself if I wanted to have this done by my birthday, I'd better get off my lazy ass and type it. So, here it is. Ten chapters already...yeesh. How time flies. I remember when I first started this fic, I was so hesitant about posting it, believing people would not like it. Not only did people like it, it's my most popular fic. So I want to take a moment to thank everyone who's reviewed to date: **AuroraExecution, Niteskye, Tembra, BoredLittleGirl, Elfchildofgrace, Ale-chan, Manquehuito, Stayka, Bad Hallelujah, NanoMecka, Irrelevant maverick, Maddery, The Crossover Queen, and Anime 300**. Thank you all so much for your continued support. I love you all. If I missed anyone, I love you, too. Enjoy!

* * *

Milo and Camus arrived in the lobby with ten minutes to spare. They flopped into chairs and waited for Anna. She arrived exactly ten minutes later carrying a tray of coffee cups and accompanied by a woman in her thirties. She handed cups of coffee to Milo and Camus and smiled at them.

"Hey, guys", she said in English. "I brought Delphine with me since she's our event coordinator. She'll fill you you in on everything."

Delphine was tall and really thin, with very pale blond hair cut short around her ears and light gray eyes. Like Anna, she wore simple clothes and no makeup. Camus smiled lightly. At least he wouldn't have to worry about Milo flirting with them.

"First off, I want to thank you gentlemen for coming on such short notice." Her sharp eyes roamed over them. "Which one of you will be playing Santa?"

"That would be me", Milo said.

"Could you stand up a moment?"

Milo looked as though the last thing he wanted was to leave his chair. Never the less, he set his untouched cup of coffee on the table in front of him and rose to his feet.

Delphine looked him over, visually analyzing his height and body proportions. Finally she said "Well, the costume should be fine. You're much thinner than our previous Santa, but some padding should take care of that."

"Cool. I always wanted to walk around with a bunch of padding. It should be fun bouncing off the walls in it", Milo said

Anna giggled, but Delphine was not amused.

"I hope you're not going to be an immature twat tonight."

Camus sipped at his half-finished cup of coffee and watched with amusement. He could imagine Delphine beating up Milo and dragging him off by the curls he so greatly cherished.

Milo looked confused.

"What's a twat?", he asked.

"Never mind", Delphine sighed. "This is exactly why I don't like dealing with the very young."

"Then don't", Camus cut in, coming to Milo's defense. "He's doing you a favor. If you're going to be ungrateful about it, maybe he should just go back to the hotel room."

Anna gasped.

"She doesn't mean to sound rude, really."

Milo rose back to his feet.

"I'm not going to deny a bunch of sick kids the chance to see Santa Claus just because she doesn't like me."

Delphine rolled her eyes.

"I wouldn't say I dislike you-you just seem very childish."

Milo shrugged.

"I've tried being mature-it bores me. So are you going to tell me what I have to do? Or should I just assume I'm going to try to stuff myself down a chimney?"

"No. There will be no chimney involved. We start feeding the children at four o'clock. At six o'clock, you'll walk through the door and we'll direct you to a chair. You'll sit in the chair and the kids will sit around you on the floor. Then you call them up one at a time and give them their gift. It shouldn't take more than two hours."

"That sounds fine", Milo said.

"Maybe you could help him", Delphine told Camus.

Milo glanced at his friend, who was sitting quietly in his chair.

"I think he's too tall to be an elf", he commented.

"He wouldn't be an elf. He'll just stand by you and hand you packages out of the sack", Delphine said.

"I can do that", Camus said lightly.

"Good. Come back here at three-we'll go to the event together." Delphine rose to her feet and walked away.

Milo childishly stuck his tongue out at her back as she left.

Camus shook his head.

"Milo, are you ever going to grow up?", he asked.

"Ew, no. Why would I want to do something like that?"

Anna laughed.

Milo smiled at her and picked his coffee cup up off the table.

"I'm going to go back to the room and rest up a bit before the evening. You two have fun", he winked at Camus.

Camus's heart started pounding as he realized what Milo was implying. Not that he didn't find Anna's appearance refreshing, even pleasing, in her ankle-length skirt and long-sleeved blouse, her hair tied back in a ponytail that went slightly past her shoulders. Attractive or no, the fact remained that he didn't really know her.

Anna blushed at Milo's statement and stared at her dainty feet.

Milo waved to them and walked back to their hotel room, his ponytail swinging behind him. Camus stared at his friend's retreating back, feeling slightly annoyed when he realized Milo had more-or-less set him up on another date. More-or-less because he hadn't asked Anna to do anything yet, but the girl was waiting for him to ask her. He sighed.

"Anna?", he asked. "Would you like to go get a late breakfast with me?"

The girl's blush deepened until she went from the pink of a cherry blossom to the red of a cherry. Camus smiled to himself at the comparison.

"S-sure", she stammered, her blue-green eyes wide. "I'd love to."

Camus was under the impression she didn't get asked out often. Given her plain looks, she probably wasn't.

"Let me change my clothes and I'll meet you right back here in ten minutes", he said. His jeans were fine, but his white T-shirt was not one he wanted to be walking the streets in.

"Ok", Anna said, still bright red in the face.

Camus dashed back to their room.

* * *

Milo glanced up from where he was reading.

"That was a quick date", he commented.

"I came here to change my shirt into something decent. Thanks for putting me on the spot, by the way."

Milo set the book in his lap and looked Camus dead in the eyes.

"The way you look at her clues me in that you like her, Camus. You can deny it all you want, but you're not fooling me. You like her, and that's why you were so quick to help her."

"I don't even know her, Milo. I felt compelled to help her because of the children."

"Ah, well. Have fun. Maybe if I feel better I'll pursue Delphine."

Camus stared at his friend.

"Are you running a fever and having delusions. First is the fact that she's about thirty-five years old, second is the fact that she is easily annoyed by you."

"Third is the fact that she's a total prude and could use a day out. But I'm just joking. I'm not big on girls who have shorter hair than I do."

"You're a piece of work", Camus muttered, switching his shirt to a dark blue button-up.

"Your collar's crooked", Milo said.

Camus sighed and adjusted his collar.

"Much better. Go knock her off her feet Romeo."

"Remind me not to let you borrow any more books", Camus said.

He got no response and looked at Milo, who had picked the book back up and was totally engrossed in the story. Not that Camus blamed him-the Green Mile was a very fascinating story. He slipped out the door.

* * *

Anna smiled at Camus as he walked back over to her. Camus gave her what he hoped looked like a decent smile.

"So, who was that guy? Your little brother?", Anna asked.

"Sort of. We're not actually related, but I've known him since we were very little kids. He's close to me like a brother...how'd you know he's younger than I am?"

Anna giggled.

"You act way more mature, so I guessed."

"Well, here's the shocker. He's only eight months younger than I am."

"Wow. I'd of guessed four or five years."

Camus stared at her.

"How old do you think I am?", he asked.

"Oh, twenty-five or twenty-six", she said.

Camus chuckled.

"I'm twenty. I'll be twenty-one in February."

"Oh!", Anna gasped. "You're actually younger than I am. I'm twenty-four."

"Age is just a number", Camus replied. Out of everyone he knew, no one acted the way people in their age group were "supposed" to act. He wondered who determined how people in certain age brackets were supposed to act, since a number of factors determined a person's personality. Everyone he knew just wouldn't be themselves if they acted their "age". If Milo were to stop curling up on his couch wrapped up in the blanket, looking like he was about 12-years-old, if Mu decided to get a hair cut and go clubbing, if Shura stopped freaking out when someone tracked mud through his temple...

"Camus?", Anna asked.

"Hm?", Camus replied.

"You spaced out for a moment there", she said, placing a small hand on his forearm. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine", Camus replied, determined not to pull his arm away. "Just thinking."

He guessed his arm must have twitched because she removed her hand.

"Do you do that often?", she asked.

"Do what?", Camus asked.

"Think."

"Well, I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent man. Intelligent people do use their brains." He gave a small smile to her to show he was not offended.

Anna blushed.

"I'm sorry. I know how that sounded...it's just every time my sister sets me up with a guy, he leaves much to be desired."

"I know how that is..." The words were out of Camus's mouth before he could stop them.

"Oh?", Anna asked.

"Yeah. Milo sets me up on dates with some..." Camus shook his head, trying to think of a word that wouldn't offend Anna. "Interesting people."

Anna laughed at the expression on Camus's face.

Camus smiled a genuine smile and held the door open for Anna as they entered a pastry shop for breakfast.

* * *

Camus returned to the hotel room a little while later, carrying a bag full of treats from the bakery Anna had asked him to bring Milo. The TV was on, playing a soap opera in French. Camus set the bag on the counter in the kitchen area and walked the whole five feet separating kitchen from beds.

"Milo?", he asked.

He received no response and crept closer to his friend's bed. Milo lay curled on his side, fast asleep, his little scorpion poking out of his curls. Camus smiled when he saw his friend had taken the blanket off his bed for extra warmth. Had the Scorpio saint opened the closet by the bathroom, he would have found plenty of extra blankets.

Camus straightened out the sheets that Milo had pulled halfway off the bed. Then he got a blanket from the closet and put that on his bed. His attention then shifted to the TV-Milo had set it so he could read English subtitles, though as to why his friend had been watching such a ridiculous program, he had no idea. If he was dating a werewolf, he certainly would not broadcast it to the world.

He settled on his bed and started absently flipping through the channels. He was amazed at the stuff people watched. Like the show called Nanette, where a woman, coincidentally named Nanette, interviewed some of the weirdest people. Today she was interviewing people who didn't want their significant others to know they were circus clowns. Camus quickly switched the TV back to the show where the woman had announced that her boyfriend was a werewolf. He soon grew irritated by the lack of sense of the story, however, and switched the TV off.

Milo woke up as soon as the TV switched off. He sat up in bed and gazed over at Camus.

"Did you have to turn the TV off?", he asked.

"Oh, so you like dreaming about girls dating werewolves?", Camus retorted.

Milo beamed hugely.

"Only when I'm the werewolf. I wouldn't mind dating a girl like Sophie."

"You wouldn't survive long. After you fell asleep Sophie announced to an entire resteraunt that her boyfriend was a werewolf."

"Ah, well", Milo's smile grew even wider. "How was your date, speaking of girlfriends."

"Actually, Anna's very different-in a food way. I think this is the first time you've set me up with someone and I didn't want to kill you when I got back", Camus responded honestly.

"That's good", Milo said, laying back down and pulling the blankets to his chin.

"You still need to get some blood, Milo", Camus told him.

"Hey, I'm sick. I'm allowed to use as many blankets as I want. Isn't that right, Cleo?"

Camus rolled his eyes.

"Are you going to bring that thing to the fund raiser tonight?"

Milo smiled innocently.

"You don't like Cleo?", he asked.

"I don't know how a bunch of little kids will react to a scorpion", Camus replied.

"Cleo's smart, she won't leave me."

"You put so much faith in a creature that has a brain the size of a pea."

Milo set the little scorpion on his pillow.

"She still has a bigger brain than Aiolia."

Camus tried not to laugh.

"I'm going to try to get some more sleep before we have to meet Mrs. Frosty tonight", Milo murmured.

"Good idea", Camus said.

He grabbed the copy of the Green Mile, which Milo had placed on the nightstand, and opened up to his place.

He tried to concentrate on the story, especially since there was little else he could do with Milo trying to get over his cold. However, he found himself wondering if he should wear his black suit or his blue one to the fund raiser and wondering what kind of dress Anna would wear.

He sighed and glanced over at his friend, who was now sound asleep. The scorpion had once again nestled herself deep in his curls.

This whole interest in girls things was new to him and he was really unsure how to handle it. He would have to ask Milo for advice when he woke up. He sighed again and returned his attention to his book. For the first time in a long time, Camus was unsure of himself. He did not like the feeling one bit.


	11. Day 5, Part 3

A/N: Chapter 11...4 more to go! In this chapter, we have the usual madness and mayhem... I have playfully dubbed this chapter the Christmas Eve Fiasco...you'll see why.

* * *

Camus hated falling asleep when he was stressed because he always had the strangest dreams. One little-known secret of his was that his imagination was almost as wild as Milo's. Needless to say he was not surprised when he drifted off to sleep and had what was probably the weirdest dream of his entire life.

_Camus, Milo, Dohko, and Hyoga stood outside Aldebarran's prison cell. Dohko held a straight jacket in his hands._

"_Are you sure he can heal her?", Hyoga asked. His face was very pale._

"_You saw what he did for the mouse", Milo replied._

"_But a person is a lot bigger than a mouse", Hyoga argued._

"_We can't be sure, but he's her only hope. We have to try", Camus cut in before a full-blown dispute could break out._

_Dohko waved the straight jacket in the air._

"_Don't forget. We still have Misty to deal with...", he reminded them._

"_Right", Camus agreed._

_As the group turned to leave, Aldebarran looked up at them._

"_I would like to go for a ride", he said._

_The four exchanged looks with each other and then walked off. As they did, Camus peeked into Deathmask's cell and prayed he would stay asleep._

_Later, after they'd put Misty in the straight jacket and tossed him, bound and gagged, into a supply closet, Camus, Milo, Dohko, and Aldebarran stood in front of Leo temple._

"_Aiolia", Milo called. "Can we come in?"_

_Aiolia appeared in the entranceway, his face tired, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears._

"_How's Marin doing?", Dohko asked gently._

_The tears fell from Aiolia's eyes._

"_She wears", Aiolia said thickly._

"_What does she wear?", Milo asked, confused._

"_Not wears, swears. She swears", Aiolia replied. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Here, come in..."_

_The four followed Aiolia inside, into Leo temple's bed chamber._

_Marin lay in the bed, looking absolutely awful. No one would have known just how beautiful the woman had been before she'd gotten sick._

"_Marin, you have some visitors", Aiolia told her._

_Marin looked at them and opened her mouth. A stream of profane words came out..._

Camus was pulled from his bizarre dream by Milo cursing rapidly in Greek.

"Milo?", Camus asked. "What's wrong?"

"It's two-thirty already!", Milo yelped.

Camus jumped off his own bed as though he'd been electrocuted.

"How did we sleep so much?", he asked as he rummaged through his suitcase for a suit.

"I don't know", Milo said. He was frantically wetting his hair down in the sink to try to smooth away some of the frizziness he'd gotten from sleeping on it wet.

Camus pulled on his suit. He decided to wear the black suit with a royal blue shirt and black tie.

Milo cursed again as he accidentally splashed water onto his own white suit.

"Remember, Santa doesn't curse", Camus said, walking into the bathroom. He nudged Milo away from the sink so he could wet his toothbrush and proceeded to brush his teeth.

Milo shook his head at his reflection in the mirror, struggling not to laugh at himself.

"I look ridiculous...But I don't want to wear a ponytail with a suit."

Camus spit out the mouthful of toothpaste and glanced at Milo's hair.

"It doesn't look that bad", he said. "Put some gel in it. It'll be fine-you're going to be dressed as Santa for most of the night anyway."

"Spoken from the one with straight hair", Milo said, but he grabbed for the gel anyway.

Camus ran his brush through his long black mane.

"There's a reason I have straight hair, and the reason is I don't care enough about how my hair looks to keep it from looking like a bush."

"So you're saying I'm vain and that's why I have curls?", Milo asked.

"Not exactly. Aphrodite and Misty don't have curls. You just care enough to keep them nice."

"Well, the alternatives are to grow my hair down really long like the twins wear their hair so the weight turns the curls into waves or cut it short like Aiolia's. Neither sounds pleasant to me."

Camus chuckled softly.

"Such a dilemma."

"Well, we're not all like you", Milo retorted. "The only reason you're even brushing your hair is because you want to look good for Anna."

Camus felt his face heat up and looked in the mirror to see the red flush across his cheeks.

"I really hate you sometimes", he said.

The Scorpio Saint grinned broadly.

"We've been friends for how many years?"

"Since you let me borrow your copy of Aladdin when we were six-so fourteen years...", Camus replied.

"Surely you can endure a little teasing from me."

"Oh, I endure it, but that doesn't mean I like it", Camus replied, smiling slightly.

Milo sighed, deciding his hair was a lost cause, and secured it at the nape of his neck with a rubber band. He picked up his toothbrush and poked Camus until his friend moved away from the sink.

While Milo brushed his teeth, Camus hunted down their shoes. He stuck Milo's by the door and pulled his own shoes on. Milo dashed out of the bathroom a few moments later. He looked frazzled.

"By the door", Camus said.

"No, I can't find Cleo...", Milo said, rushing to his bed.

"Milo, I'm sure she's fine...", Camus said.

"I thought she was with me...where could she have gone?"

"Did you take her out of your hair before you attacked it?", Camus asked, remembering the little red animal tucking herself in her master's hair.

"Yes. I know better than to do my hair without checking for her first. She loves sleeping in it..."

Camus shook his head.

"Milo, she'll turn up. We'll find her when we get back. Right now, we have to get to the lobby to meet Delphine and Anna."

Milo sighed.

"All right", he said. "But you'd better help me look for her when we get back, Camus."

"I'll help you, I promise. Now put your shoes on. We're running late."

Milo walked to the door and pulled his shoes on, pouting like a child.

Camus just shook his head.

* * *

Delphine clucked her tongue at them as they approached.

"You're late", she admonished.

Milo answered by sneezing into his handkerchief.

"Sorry. We both kind of took a really long nap this afternoon", Camus admitted.

"They're not that late, Delphine, give them a break. They're kind enough to help us", Anna added.

Camus took that moment to look over at her. She wore a strapless black dress that went to her ankles and light makeup, a black shawl draped around her shoulders kept her look modest. Her hair hand been curled, resting delicately around her face and ending just a little above her shoulders. She looked like a proper, elegant young lady.

"Well, let's go", Delphine's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

She led the way to her car.

As they walked, Milo clapped a hand on Camus's shoulder.

"You'd better ask her to dance with you tonight", he whispered in Camus's ear.

Camus shot his best friend a warning look.

"Will you stop turning everything into a chance for me to date someone?"

Milo feigned a hurt look.

"Why, Camus. Whatever do you mean?"

Camus shoved Milo ahead of him and practically forced him into the back seat of Delphine's car.

Milo slid over and Camus got in the car and sat next to him.

"You got it bad", Milo teased.

Camus glared at his friend.

"I'm warning you, Milo..."

Milo just laughed.

The charity event was going full-swing by the time they arrived. Delphine hurried them into the back room, but not before they could get a look around.

"That's a lot of kids", Camus commented once Delphine had vanished, presumably to get Milo his costume.

"Now I know why you needed a replacement Santa...you were afraid all those children would ban together and torch the place", Milo said.

Camus and Anna both laughed.

"You're crazy, they're little kids", Anna said.

"You'd be surprised what little kids can do", Milo replied.

Camus found himself thinking of the time Hyoga and Issac had frozen the door to his bedroom shut so he couldn't get out. He had been sick, so they were trying to force him to stay in bed as he had done for them when they had the chicken pox. Unfortunately, they hadn't realized if the door was sealed shut, they couldn't bring their master his medicine, water, or food. The little monsters had had to actually break the door down to his room to get in, and had found Camus half passed-out on the floor, delirious from fever and dehydration, because they had refused to open the door when he was telling them to. He knew first hand from experience that little kids should not be underestimated. He unknowingly laughed.

"What's so funny?", Anna asked.

"Oh, just remembering the time my little brothers locked me in my room when I was sick", Camus said lightly.

"Oh?", Anna asked.

Milo couldn't help but notice Camus was yet again glowing. His friend really had regarded his students as his younger siblings and the love he felt for both of them was evident in his eyes.

"By the time they finally opened the door, I was half dead on the floor".

Anna and Milo both chuckled.

Milo had heard the story before in full detail and knew where Camus had changed it to make it seem like they were normal young men-a smart move. Milo had learned early on in his dating experiences that telling women you were a Saint of the goddess Athena was usually a bad thing. Usually the girls offered to escort him to the nearest insane asylum. The Scorpio Saint smiled a secret smile

Delphine returned that moment with a Santa suit and handed it to Milo.

"Pull that on over your suit, and then we'll figure out how much padding to put on you", she said.

"Can't I just tell them I decided to go on a diet? It can't be healthy for an elderly man to weigh four hundred pounds, after all."

Delphine rolled her eyes.

"How old are you?", she asked.

"Twenty?", Milo replied.

"Can you act like you're twenty for the night, please?"

Milo sighed dramatically.

"If I absolutely must...Though old people are usually senile..."

He looked at Camus and winked. Camus shook his head, a small smile playing on his face.

Milo pulled the costume on over his suit.

"Is it me?", he asked.

"I think so...", Anna said, trying not to laugh.

"You look ridiculous", Camus said in a deadpan voice. "I have never seen a Santa with long blue curls before."

"My hair's falling out of the wig already?", Milo asked.

Delphine walked over to Milo and re-adjusted the wig so that his blue curls were out of view. She then put a fake beard on him.

"I feel like I have a cat sleeping on my nose and mouth...", Milo complained.

"Good", Delphine said briskly. "Lift your arms up."

Milo did as he was told, and Delphine put padding under his Santa shirt. After she was done making him look heavyset, she handed him the bag full of toys. She left them again, though her voice could be heard loud and clear.

"Do you hear that? I think Santa Claus is here..."

Milo slung the bag of toys over his shoulder and followed Anna and Camus out into the event, a gigantic smile on his face.

* * *

For the first hour or so, things went smoothly. Camus would hand brightly-wrapped packages to Milo, who would then read the name on the tag and pass the package along to an eager-eyed little boy or girl. Then, it happened-a little girl screamed and ran her hands frantically over her bald head, the joy in her eyes replaced by sheer terror. Then all the children started screaming and yelling and pointing, and Milo saw something small and red shoot across the floor.

Panic shot through Milo, who realized Cleo was running across the floor. If he didn't get her soon, someone would step on her and squash her.

"Children...Children, please, remain calm...", Milo said weakly.

Camus stuck two fingers between his lips and whistled sharply. Just because he hadn't had students for a while didn't mean he'd forgotten how to deal with young kids.

The kids stopped screaming and looked at Camus.

Camus jumped onto the chair that had been occupied by Milo a minute or so earlier and gazed down at all the kids.

"I want all of you to stand in a circle around me. Santa Claus is going to go retrieve his pet and then we'll get back to handing out your gifts."

"That's Santa's pet?", a little boy asked.

"Yes. And he was warned not to bring her here...but Santa thinks because he is old, he doesn't have to listen..."

Camus nodded to Milo, who walked across the room and knelt down under the table Cleo and run under. He carefully coaxed the little scorpion over to him, and then carefully slipped her into his suit's breast pocket. He inched out from under the table. Unfortunately his wig and hat decided to get caught on the table's springs and as he inched out, he felt a rush of cool air around his forehead and realized his blue curls were visible for all the children to see.

"YOU'RE NOT SANTA!", one of the kids accused.

Milo pulled off the fake beard and walked over to the kids, his hands in the air.

"You're right", he said softly. "I'm not. Santa Claus asked me to come here for him tonight because he has so many deliveries to make tonight he simply couldn't make it. But since I've been found out, I guess there's no point pretending anymore."

The kids pouted.

"Santa also asked me to ask each and every one of you what is the one thing you want the most", Milo continued. "And he will get it to you since he couldn't make it."

He nodded to Anna, who was watching him with tears in her eyes, and she got him a pad of paper and a pen.

The kids sat around Milo, who finished passing out the first round of gifts. Then, one by one, they gave Milo their names and the thing they wanted the most.

* * *

Milo waved to the kids as they got back on the bus that took them back to the hospital.

"Bye, Mr. Milo!", they called back.

As the bus took off, Milo glanced down at the list. It broke his heart-even with the little money he had as a Saint, he could afford everything the children had asked for and still have money left over. One child had asked for a pair of socks because all of hers had holes in them, another little boy had asked for some cookies because the hospital didn't give them sweets often and he really liked chocolate. He bit his lip, determined not to start crying.

Camus clamped a hand on his shoulder.

"You can cry if you want to, Milo.", he said.

Milo looked at his friend and was astonished to see unshed tears sparkling in his eyes.

"This has got to be the saddest list of requests I have ever seen in my life..." Milo blinked, and a few tears fell from his crystal-blue eyes.

"They really seemed to like you, Milo...would be kind enough to go to the hospital tomorrow and visit them for a little while? A lot of them don't have any families-they're all dying, you see, and a lot of their parents have stopped seeing them", Delphine asked. Her voice sounded very gentle this time, and Milo could see that under her tough exterior, she had a good heart.

"Of course...all children need someone that they can talk to. An adult who listens", Milo agreed.

He and Camus got ready to leave. As they were heading out the door, Anna ran up to them.

"I was wondering if you two would like to have Christmas dinner with me and my sister tomorrow night?", she offered.

Milo and Camus exchanged looks with each other. Milo wasn't really concerned with anything other than getting all the things the kids asked for, but he could tell Camus really wanted to accept her offer.

"That sounds great", he said finally.

Anna smiled at them. She gave Milo a hug, and then hugged Camus and gave him a kiss on a cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow then", she said.

Milo and Camus agreed and walked out the door.

"Let's go back to the hotel room and divide that list in half", Camus said. "It'll be quicker if we split up to get things then if we go together."

Milo agreed.

"Then we can wrap them up and bring them to the hospital while the kids are sleeping."

The two friends walked through the snow-covered streets back to their hotel room without another word spoken between them. The fourteen years of friendship between them allowed each to know what was going on in the other's mind. Both of them knew they were thinking the same thing, too-it was going to be a long night.

* * *

A/N: For those of you who don't know, Camus was dreaming of him and his friends as characters from The Green Mile. Camus was Paul, Milo was Brutal, Aldebarran was John, Hyoga was Dean, Dohko was Harry, Misty was Percy, Deathmask was Wild Bill, Aiolia was the boss guy (forgot his name) and Marin was Melinda. Yes, I am weird. Some people get reminded of characters from songs-I get reminded from the millions of books I read. Guess that about sums everything up. Hope this chapter was enjoyed. Please review! 


	12. Day 6, Part 1

A/N: Twelve chapters down, three more to go... Enjoy!

* * *

Camus woke up to someone banging on the door early Christmas morning. He groaned and climbed out of bed to get the door.

Anna stood in the doorway.

"Every single item those kids asked for", she said. "-every single one-has been delivered to the children at the hospital. Delphine called me at six o'clock this morning, in utter shock. I knew you two must have had something to do with it."

Camus looked at Milo, who hadn't even made it into his bed. The Scorpio saint was curled up in a chair, a blanket half-draped around him, with a handkerchief clutched in his hand.

"Well, they're just children", he murmured. "And it was the least we could do to keep their dream of Santa alive after Milo nearly ruined it."

"Still it was really sweet of you two. We never realized how much new socks and cookies meant to them."

"When you have nothing, the littlest things can seem like something. Delphine said a lot of them had been abandoned by their families because they're dying. They can't have a lot."

Camus thought back of when he was training Hyoga and Issac in Siberia. They'd been extremely happy when Camus had given them new sets of thermal pajamas on their ninth birthdays because they'd outgrown theirs. Kids were easy to please-a lot of adults forgot as they got older just how easy it was to please a child.

"I came over to see if you and Milo wanted to join my sister and me for breakfast."

Camus gave her what he hoped was a sincere smile.

"Thanks for the offer, but I think Milo needs to stay asleep for a little while. He also wants to go to the hospital later, and we have to get ready to go home tomorrow."

"Oh. Well, no biggie. I'll see you both for dinner tonight." She smiled, but Camus could tell his refusal had upset her. "I guess I'll see you later. Meet me in the lobby at five-I'll take you guys to the place we're staying."

"Thank you, Anna", Camus said.

The girl smiled again, this time without sadness in her eyes, and let herself out. Camus watched her blond waves bounce around her shoulders as she walked down the hall. He sighed and shut the door behind him.

"Smooth move, Romeo", Milo murmured.

Camus turned his attention to his friend, who was now sitting up in his chair, his blanket wrapped firmly around his shoulders.

"How long have you been awake?", Camus asked.

"Since she knocked on the door-but I didn't want to make an awkward situation for you even more awkward."

Camus crossed the room and sank in the chair across from Milo's.

"I'm so confused", he admitted.

"What's wrong?", Milo asked.

"Anna", Camus replied. "I thought that much was obvious."

"Camus", Milo said softly. "Just because I can speak with you telepathically does not mean I can read your mind. There are a lot of things about Anna that could confuse you. Can you be a bit more specific?"

Camus sighed. He was definitely not used to this-usually Milo was the one who needed help and Camus offered advice.

"It's always easy for me to reject them-I give them an icy look and act uninterested and they leave me alone. I never really cared if I hurt their feeling-with Anna, though, it's different. I like her-I'm not interested in her as a girlfriend, but I like her. I don't want to hurt her feelings."

"You're going to hurt her more if you keep leading her on, Camus. Be honest with her and let her know you like her, but you only want to be her friend. She'll understand." Milo stood up and stretched. "Besides, she lives here and you live in Greece. A relationship with you two probably wouldn't work."

Milo walked towards the bathroom. Camus stared at him, dumbstruck. Finally, the Aquarius saint found his voice.

"Who are you and what have you done with Milo?"

The Scorpio saint grinned.

"Oh, I'm Milo, all right. I've just grown a but more mature is all."

"Since when?", Camus asked.

Milo looked thoughtful.

"Ohhh...two days ago. When we went skiing."

"What happened to you two days ago?", Camus persisted.

"Oh", Milo replied, without any hesitation. "I realized I like someone."

"And that girl would be...", Camus asked.

"Shaina." The name rolled off Milo's tongue in a soft whisper.

"Shaina? As in Ophichus Shaina?"

Camus felt as though his brain was breaking.

"Yeah", Milo replied, without the faintest bit on embarassment in his voice."Ophichus Shaina. You know, with the green hair? The Italian one?"

"How did you find yourself attracted to her?", Camus couldn't help but wonder. Milo was the type of guy who liked to be in charge in a relationship. While Shaina was the type of girl who not be dominated.

"I'm not sure. Must be those sexy green eyes she has-have you ever noticed how delicious they look? And that tight little ass of hers..." the Scorpio saint trailed off and laughed at the look Camus was giving him. It was an interesting mix of horror and disgust. Once he'd gotten himself under control, he continued. "I'm just joking, Camus. Shaina, is a very beautiful girl, don't get me wrong, but she's also a very tough girl. She can take care of herself. I like that about her."

Camus chuckled softly.

"You had me worried for a moment there."

Milo smiled again.

"Just be honest with Anna, OK? Be gentle with her feelings, but don't try to sugar-coat and say if you lived in France you would want to be with her or anything like that if you wouldn't. She'll appreciate your honesty."

Camus nodded.

"Thank you, Milo", he said.

Milo bowed.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day and would like to take a shower."

"Hey, I was up before you, I should get to use the shower first.", Camus replied, trying not to laugh at the water buffalo comment.

"Oh, no. You are not allowed to shower before anyone ever again. Or did you forget that time we all had to room together and you nearly killed Shaka?"

"We were twelve, that's first off. Second off, it's not my fault Shaka didn't check to see what I'd set the water to before he turned on the water."

"Third off is Shaka rarely opens his eyes and probably didn't know just how weird you are."

"I like cold showers. How is that weird?", Camus demanded.

"Cold showers and near absolute-zero showers are two different things. When people are passing out in your shower from hypothermia after being in it for two seconds and they're not me. Well..."

"Ok, I get your point", Camus said. Then with a small smirk, he added "Though Shaka's hair did look amazing after that. Cold water is great on hair."

Milo rolled his eyes and stalked off into the bathroom. Camus shrugged his shoulders and flopped onto his bed. He had just flipped on the television when he heard Milo's scream.

The Scorpio saint stormed out of the bathroom a few seconds later.

Camus burst out laughing.

"I hate you, Camus", Milo muttered.

"I'm sorry", Camus choked out. "Even I get the occasional desire to pull pranks on people."

Milo just glared at him.

"Oh, go turn the water on to hot and finish your shower and stop being a baby. How many times have you pranked me? Surely this doesn't surprise you."

Milo sighed and his glare slowly turned into a grin.

"I guess you're right..."

Cursing was heard coming from the rooms around them, and someone shrieked "What's wrong with the pipes!?"

"Crap, Camus...you didn't just freeze our room pipes...you froze the pipes that bring water to ALL the rooms on this floor..."

"That's not good", Camus commented dryly.

"You don't care, do you?", Milo asked.

"Not really"

"You're terrible."

"Look, go put some clothes on, please."

"I still say you're terrible"

Milo disappeared back in to the bathroom to put his clothes back on and he and Camus continued their argument.

* * *

A/N: Sorry so short, but I have the rest of this story mapped out into chapters, and this was all I could think of. Next chapter, they go to the hospital for a visit and meet someone from Camus's past. After that, dinner with the girls becomes an interesting occasion. Hope this was enjoyed, short as it was. Please review! 


	13. Day 6, Part 2

A/N: Thirteen down...two more to go. The last two will be posted next week before I go away...they're short chapters, but I think the length of this chapter makes up for that. I considered combining them to make one chapter, but it would be just a tad bit too skippy. Anyhow, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

"I am starting to doubt you are a human being", Milo commented as he and Camus took to the icy roads of Chaminox.

"This is invigorating", Camus replied, pushing his wet hair off his face. He wore jeans, a short-sleeved button up, and his sneakers.

"Oh, yes. Just like the shower was invigorating." Milo rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you took a shower in that water."

"I've bathed in colder. Did you like washing yourself with water heated in the coffee pot?"

"No", Milo responded. "The water burned my scalp when I poured it over my head to rinse the suds from my hair."

"Sheesh. All you ever do is complain. You say the water's too cold, then you say it's too hot."

"Hey, you asked me! That's not whining. That's giving an honest response to a question!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Man, I could really go for a cup of that tea Mu uses to soothe cold symptoms...it tastes really bad, but the last time I was sick and Mu gave me some, I felt better in two hours."

Camus chuckled.

"It is very bitter", he agreed. "Good thing we don't get sick that often."

"Maybe we should have Mu make some tea for the kids in the hospital."

Camus smiled sadly at his friend.

"You do know Mu's remedies wouldn't be able to actually cure them, right? They'll ease the symptoms and make their pain more bearable. Mu isn't a doctor, Milo. His remedies can't stop them from dying."

Milo bit his lip and Camus saw the light of hope die from his eyes. Camus hated to be the one to dash Milo's hopes, but it seemed even crueler to let his friend carry on with false expectations.

"Well, if it makes them more comfortable, that's better than nothing."

Camus nodded and pushed open the door to Chaminox General hospital. The two young men walked to the front desk and asked for the oncology unit. A young nurse, about thirty or so, led them to the unit. Camus shut his eyes and drew in a deep breath. It'd been a long time since he'd been in one and he discovered they still made him a little uneasy. The smell of death hung in the air. He felt a light squeeze on his left hand and looked to Milo's face.

"We won't stay long", the Scorpio saint whispered.

The Aquarius saint smiled slight at his friend.

"No need to rush."

* * *

The oncology unit was a brightly painted floor in the pediatric ward. All the children were gathered together in the art room watching A Christmas Carol. They looked up as Milo and Camus stepped into the room.

"Mr. Milo!", one of the little girls squealed, throwing herself at Milo's legs. "Can you tell Santa thank you for the mittens? They fit perfectly and they keep my hands nice and warm!"

She showed Milo her blue-mittened hand happily.

Milo smiled at her.

"Of course I'll tell him, Fluer."

The little girl Milo had called Fluer grinned brightly. Camus could tell she had at one time been a very beautiful little girl. Chocolate-brown curls poked out from under the scarf she had wrapped around her head, a sign that most of her hair was gone. Her cheeks were gaunt and she was painfully thin, but her eyes were bright, and when she smiled, Camus could see her beauty. He stood back, lost in his own thoughts, as Milo played with the children.

"Oi! Camus!", Milo called, jerking Camus out of his thoughts. "We're having a boys verses girls game of tug of war. I'm going to assist the little ladies. Can you come here and assist the young gentlemen?"

The boys eyed Camus, undoubtedly taking in his slim build. Camus weighed nearly twenty pounds less than Milo. He smiled-the boys were coming to the conclusion that he was weaker than his friend because he was not as muscular.

Camus joined the boys at one end of a long rope, while Milo joined the girls on the other side. One of the nurses blew a whistle, signaling for them to start.

Camus had forgotten how competitive young boys were. They were pulling and yanking, determined not to let the girls win. Camus tugged lightly on the rope, using just enough force to make it seem like he was trying. Neither he nor Milo dared to use their full strength.

"We're gaining on them", a boy Camus remembered was named Jacques declared.

"No!", Fluer screamed. "We're losing!"

"Pull harder, Mr. Camus!", Jacques demanded.

"Mr. Milo, we're going to lose!", Fluer cried.

Milo and Camus both obeyed the request of the child egging them on. Unfortunately, they both have a sharp tug at exactly the same time. The rope snapped, leaving each team holding half of a frayed rope.

The kids started laughing. Camus and Milo looked at each other and laughed as well.

"What's it called when the rope breaks?", Milo asked the nurse who'd been playing referee.

The nurse shook her head.

"I think it's called a reason for a rematch", she said, walking to them. She tied the ends of the rope together and added "Without adult help."

The kids groaned.

"Hey, no reason to whine. It's probably better if Camus and I stayed out of the game-that way, when the ladies win, you gentlemen can't blame me."

"Or when we win, you all won't be able to blame Mr. Camus", Jacques said.

"That, too", Milo replied, hiding his smile.

The children lined up again and took the rope. The nurse blew the whistle and the children started up round two. Milo cheered on the girls while Camus cheered for the boys.

After what seemed like forever, the girls finally succeeded in pulling the middle of the rope over the line. There was much cheering from the girls and groaning from the boys. An older nurse walked in carrying a tray of medicine. The children stopped cheering.

"Awww...", they all chorused together.

The nurse gave them a sympathetic smile.

"Take your medicine and rest for an hour. Than you can play some more."

As the children headed over to the nurse, Milo set a hand on Fluer's shoulder. He took his hair band out of his hair and handed it to her, along with a golden pin of a scorpion.

"You said you liked my hair because it reminded you of how your hair used to be", he told her. "Well, provided our job doesn't prevent us, we'll be back next year. You're going to get better and you can use that when your hair grows back." He clipped the pin to the front of her shirt. "And that will remind you when you feel lonely and scared that there are people who care and want you to get healthy again."

Fluer touched the pin and then stuffed Milo's ponytail holder in her pocket. She threw her arms around him and gave hum a big bear hug. Milo returned the hug.

"Now go take your medicine, you can't get better without it. We'll stop by later to say goodbye."

Fluer nodded and hurried off to take her medicine.

The kids were then led away to their rooms and Milo and Camus left the hospital.

* * *

"Why did you do that, Milo?", Camus asked later on. They were seated in a resteraunt called Gorges de La Diosaz, where they were enjoying a light lunch of coffee and crepes.

"Do what?", Milo asked.

Camus tugged none-too-gently on Milo's loose curls.

"Oh, that", Milo smiled gently. "Little Fluer is one of the few that actually have a chance of getting better, and she's really scared because her Mama and Papa have stopped coming to see her. I wanted to give her some hope so she can get better."

"You know...", Camus cut himself off and shook his head. "No. Never mind. It's Christmas."

"It's OK", Milo said, wrapping his bare hands around his coffee cut, presumably to warm them. "You were going to point out we might not even be alive this time next year."

Camus nodded.

"We've been lucky so far, but luck does run out eventually."

Milo sighed.

"I try not to think about stuff like that. If we die, we die. If you spend your whole life wondering when will be the battle that kills you, you'll never be able to enjoy the little things-which, by the way, does not include this bread."

Camus chuckled.

"I'm just glad we found a place to eat, I don't care if the bread's a bit stale."

"A bit?", Milo asked. "This bread is harder than Aiolia's head."

He tapped the bread against the table, as though trying to prove his point.

Camus could tell Milo was not in a very good mood even though he was trying to hide it. He smirked slightly. Like Milo said, he would only be twenty once...

Milo yelped lightly as Camus brought his own loaf of hard bread down on his head.

"What was that for, Camus?", Milo demanded.

Camus grinned.

"That was a declaration of war."

Milo grinned back, eyes shining.

"You're on!", he cried, grabbing his own bread.

The two proceeded to "sword fight" using their loaves of hard bread. Camus had to admit he was actually having fun playfully jabbing Milo with his loaf of extremely hard bread. Maybe loosening up every once in a while wasn't really such a bad thing.

"Camus?", a masculine voice asked.

Milo's bread came down hard on Camus's head and snapped in half. The Aquarius saint brushed bread crumbs out of his hair and whirled around to see who had called his name. He was met with the sight of a man in his early forties with neatly-cut, short black hair, pale skin, and deep blue eyes. Camus gasped.

"It IS you!", the man declared, tears welling in his eyes. "Camus, I thought I would never see you again!"

Camus stood where he was, dumbstruck. Finally, he managed to find his voice.

"Gabriel!?"

Camus felt the sting of tears in his own eyes.

Gabriel pulled Camus into a tight embrace and backed up, holding onto Camus's shoulders, so he could look at him.

"You look so much like your father."

Camus snapped out of his daze.

"It's hard to believe it's been sixteen years since Papa died..."

"Your voice sounds like his, too. I also see you took after Spiro in the eccentric department. Why aren't you wearing a coat?"

"I've been calling him crazy for years", Milo told Gabriel, startling both Gabriel and Camus. "You get used to his insanity after a while."

Camus smiled.

"Milo, this is my uncle, Gabriel. He took care of me before I left for Greece. Gabriel, this is Milo. I must say he's made my life in Sanctuary quite...interesting."

Gabriel have Milo a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you, Milo."

"Likewise", Milo replied politely.

Gabriel turned back to Camus.

"What took you so long to come back? Why haven't you come to visit before?

Camus licked his lip and swallowed hard. He couldn't tell his uncle what had kept him out of France for fifteen years.

"We can't all leave at once", Milo offered. "We have to take turns, and no one is allowed to leave in their first ten years."

Camus nodded, thankful for his friend's quick thinking. The best thing was, Milo had not told his uncle a lie.

Milo and Camus reclaimed their seats at the table and Gabriel joined them.

"Your father left you an inheritance when he died, you know. It was supposed to go to you when you turned eighteen, but I had no way of finding you."

Camus smiled gently.

"I have no need for money in the Sanctuary. They pay us there, we have our own homes, we are not in need of anything. You keep it."

Gabriel patted Camus's hand.

"One day, you will need something, or will want to do something for someone. The inheritance is yours." Gabriel pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Camus. "This is all the bank information."

Camus accepted the envelope and handed it to Milo.

"Put this in your pocket, please."

Milo nodded and stuck the envelope into his jacket pocket.

"Thank you", Camus told his uncle.

Gabriel smiled.

"So I take it you succeeded in your training."

"I did."

"Tell me about it."

Camus leaned back in his chair. He called the waitress over and ordered fresh coffee and three lemon tarts. Then he started his tale on how he trained in Siberia and everything he endured during training.

* * *

Camus and Milo finally left Gorges's an hour before they had to meed Anna and her sister for dinner. Milo had, for the most part, sat quietly, a bright smile on his face, and listened to Camus talk more in two hours than he had that entire year.

"He seems really nice", Milo said.

"He is. I didn't expect to see him again..."

"Here's your bank information."

Milo handed Camus the envelope.

Camus tossed the envelope into his suitcase.

"I wish he would have kept this. What am I going to do with it?"

"Throw Athena a birthday party so big it puts Julian Solo's to shame?"

Camus rolled his eyes.

Milo put a hand on Camus's shoulder.

"When you need it, it'll be there. Don't worry about it. No one is saying you have to use it now."

"I guess you're right", Camus said.

"I know I am." Milo placed a small package wrapped in gold paper in Camus's hand. "Merry Christmas, Ice Cube."

Camus smirked.

"So we're exchanging gifts now?"

Milo shrugged.

"Might as well. We don't know when we'll be coming back to wait until after dinner."

"I see your point" Camus said. He dug around in his suitcase until he found a package wrapped in green paper. "This is only part of it. The other part is in my temple-I couldn't fit it in a suitcase. I'll tell you what the other part is after you open that."

"Okie dokies", Milo replied cheerfully.

Camus unwrapped a handsome gold watch. It had a black onyx face with a gold cross in the background. The watch, he realized, had been picked out to match the gold cross his students had given him years ago.

"Ohhh...you can never have too many blankets! Thank you, Camus!", Milo chirped brightly.

"Thank you for the watch-that blanket had better stay in your temple. I also got you a bookshelf so you can stop throwing books all over the floor."

Milo pouted.

"Are you calling me messy, Camus?"

"Well, Shura does keep offering to clean your room..."

"Uh. Shura tries to clean everyone's room. I would let him, but I enjoy being able to breathe air that doesn't smell of synthetic air sanitizer."

Camus chuckled and fastened his new watch around his wrist.

"Who's that for?", Milo asked, pointing to another green-wrapped package on the floor by Camus's suitcase.

"Oh. That's for Hyoga", Camus replied, putting the package back into his suitcase.

Milo made a face.

"What? I'm not allowed to buy my student a gift? Especially since, you know, he's Christian and this holiday has religious significance for him?", Camus asked.

"It's not that. I expected you to buy something for Hyoga, but did you get Anna anything?"

Camus rolled his eyes.

"I got Anna and her sister both boxes of chocolate, and I have a bottle of wine for dinner."

"Oh", Milo said.

"You don't think she's expecting a present, do you?"

"I don't know...", Milo murmured in a tone that suggested he believed she was.

Camus sighed.

"See what I mean? I am clueless when it comes to girls."

Milo dug through his suitcase until he found a small item wrapped in blue tissue paper. He brought it over to Camus and peeled the paper away, reveling a pair of aquamarine earrings.

"I was going to give these to Shaina", Milo explained. "But then I found something else I thought she would like better and never got around to returning them. Give them to Anna."

Camus hesitated, reluctant to take the earrings.

"Why don't you give Shaina the earrings and the other thing?"

"No." Milo shook his head. "It would make it seem like I'm trying too hard to impress her."

He grabbed Camus's hand and pressed the earrings into his palm.

"Go wrap them up. We've got to leave in ten minutes."

Camus curled his hand around the earrings and nodded.

"Thank you, Milo."

Milo flicked his wrist at him, his non-verbal way of saying "no worries" and walked into the bathroom. Camus placed the earrings in a spare gift box and wrapped them up in left over wrapping paper. He stuffed the box into his jacket pocket and sighed. Things were getting more and more complicated by the moment.

* * *

"Camus! Milo!", Anna called, waving to the two young men as they came near.

"Good evening", Milo called back cheerfully.

Anna smiled. Tonight she wore an ankle-length black skirt and green blouse with small black heels. She was accompanied by a tiny young woman in a strapless silver mini-dress and three-inch silver pumps. Her companion had green eyes and long hair such a light shade of blond it was nearly white.

"Boys, this is Charlotte, my younger sister", Anna introduced the girl.

Charlotte smiled at them. Camus noticed the way her eyes lingered on Milo. He was now _very _happy to learn that Milo had a crush on Shaina. Charlotte was exactly the type of girl Milo had always dated in the past, and he did not think he could bear listening to his friend flirt shamelessly all night long.

"A pleasure to meet you, Charlotte", Milo said, extending a hand to her.

Anna smiled.

"Well, let us be off."

Anna took them to a little, beautifully decorated wood house. She led them through the house to a small kitchen area. The table had been set for four with gold plates. In the center of the table were a number of French dishes. Camus smiled-onion soup. One of the easiest things a person could make, yet probably one of the most appreciated dishes. He remembered being young and how he had loved eating it with Gabriel on cold days.

"Sit", Anna said. "Eat."

"Uhhh...", Milo gave Camus an uneasy look.

"The onion soup won't hurt you", Camus said, trying not to laugh at the look on Milo's face.

The girls gave him a curious look.

"He's never eaten any of this stuff", Camus explained.

"That's right. I forgot you two are Greek.", Anna said.

"Actually, I am French", Camus corrected. "I just live in Greece."

"Oh." Anna smiled. "You never told me what you do for a living."

The group took seats at the table.

Camus gave Milo a look.

"We're magicians", Milo said simply.

"Magicians?", Charlotte asked.

"Oh, yes. You know, the people who pull rabbits out of hats?", Milo replied cheerfully.

"Prove it", Charlotte scoffed.

"Ok. Lie down on the floor. I'll cut you and half and put you back together". How Milo managed to keep a straight face, Camus wasn't sure, because he was struggling not to laugh himself.

"Let's try something a little less drastic", Camus said. He picked up the salt shaker and poured some into his hand. He then curled his hand around the grains and froze them. "Hold out your hand", he instructed Charlotte.

Charlotte held out her hand and Camus put the frozen salt on her palm.

"See? I turned the salt to snow flakes."

"How'd you do that?", she gasped.

"Magic", Camus replied.

He and Milo shared a look and tried not to burst out laughing.

* * *

After dinner, Camus followed Anna out onto the porch while Milo stayed inside to help Charlotte make coffee and get dessert ready.

Camus took the box of earrings out of his pocket and gave them to Anna.

"Merry Christmas, Anna"

Anna opened the box with trembling fingers. She gasped when she saw the earrings.

"Camus! Thank you!", she cried.

Before Camus could even blink, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him full on the mouth. Camus gave a muffled cry of surprise. He gently pulled her off of him and held her an arm's length away.

"Anna", he said. "You shouldn't do that."

"I-I don't understand...", Anna whispered.

Camus gave her a rare warm look, the kind he usually reserved for Hyoga and Issac.

"Anna", he said. "Please understand that I do like you-but I can't be with you. You live in France, I live in Greece. You would never see me expect during Christmas. I can't be there for you the way a man should be for a woman. You deserve much better."

Anna's lip trembled.

"I understand", she whispered. "What about if I lived in Greece?"

Camus shook his head.

"I still wouldn't be able to be there for you like I should. My job's not an easy one."

Anna gave him a very shaky smile.

"Thank you for being honest with me."

Camus took the earrings from her and gently put them in her ears.

"You'll find someone who deserves you."

The door slid open and Charlotte poked his head out.

"Dessert's ready..."

"What happened to you?", Camus asked. He rose one black brow at her coffee-covered appearance.

"Your friend can't work a coffee pot...", Charlotte grumbled.

Camus and Anna looked at each other and laughed.

* * *

After dessert and coffee, Milo and Camus bid goodnight to the girls.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you back to the hotel?", Anna offered.

"No, it's OK. Milo wanted to go to the hospital to say goodbye to Fluer."

"Fluer...", Anna said. "She's a sweetheart. I feel sorry for her. She has a high chance of surviving if she could have a bone marrow transplant, but her parents abandoned her when she got sick. We're non-profit and can't afford such a procedure."

Camus thought of the envelope Gabriel had given him. An idea suddenly popped into his head. He had no idea how much such a procedure would cost, but he was fairly certain his inheritance would cover it and any follow-up treatment she would need. He grabbed Milo's arm.

"Let's go, I have to take care of something", he said.

Before Milo could even ask a question, Camus had pulled him outside into the freezing cold night.

"I thought we were going to go to the hospital", Milo questioned, wrapping his arms around himself.

"We are. I just need to go to the hotel first..."

Camus saw a light flash in Milo's eyes as his friend realized what he was planning to do.

"Milo, come on. Nothing's going to be done if you just stand there, gawking at me."

"Right...ummm...race you back?", Milo asked.

Camus nodded. He would put aside dignity-what he had left of it-for one night.

"You're on", he agreed.

The two friends took off at top speed in the night, laughing like a pair of children.


	14. Day 7 and the Return Home

A/N: Ok, so I decided to combine the last two into one chapter after all...they were too short as two separate chapters. I refuse to post anything that's less than two pages...it seems like such a waste. This is the end of The Week...I cried a little when I finished it, dorky as that sounds. It's just this was my first fic and I am sad to see it end. Anyhow, thank you to everyone who has read it. Your reviews kept me going!

* * *

Camus groaned when the alarm sounded. He was exhausted. He and Milo had not returned from the hospital until nearly two in the morning, and now they had to get up with just three hours of sleep. He turned off the alarm and walked over to Milo, who had yet again fallen asleep curled in a chair. He shook his friend's shoulder.

"Milo. Come on. Time to get up."

Milo swatted him away.

"Remember? Airports crazier than Deathmask and Shura combined?", Camus asked.

"Shura can go trip on a boot and fall in some mud..."

Camus blinked.

"Are you asleep?"

He received no response.

"Milo..."

"Go away, Camus."

Camus was done being patient. He picked Milo up, carried him into the bathroom, and dumped him, blanket and all, into the bathtub. He turned the water on to freeze and raced out of the bathroom, narrowly avoiding being hit by a bottle of Milo's shampoo.

"You should be wide awake now", Camus called.

"I'm going to kill you!", Milo screamed back.

Camus picked up the shampoo, which was specially formulated for curly hair, and shook his head.

"In some ways you are girlier than Aphrodite."

Milo stomped out, soaking wet, and snatched his shampoo from Camus's hands.

"Aphrodite uses herbal essences-how is is this girlier?"

Camus stared.

"How would you know what shampoo Aphrodite uses?"

"Who went in his bathroom to steal his lipstick on more than one occasion?"

Camus shook his head again.

"Go get dressed."

A knock on the door startled them. Who in their right mind would be up at six am the day after Christmas?

Milo grabbed the clothes he had set out the night before and zipped back into the bathroom. Once he was safely behind a shut door, Camus opened the door and peeked out.

It was Anna, in jeans and a black down jacket, a smile on her face.

"Fluer's going to get her transplant!"

Camus feigned a shocked look.

"Really!? That's great!", he said in as enthusiastic a voice as one could manage at such an early hour.

Milo came out of the bathroom then, looking very much awake.

"Milo! Fluer's going to have her bone marrow transplant!", Anna repeated.

"I know! That's great news!"

"The call came in after midnight that an anonymous benefactor donated a fortune in Fluer's name for her treatment. She's been put on the donor list, and as soon as one is found, she will be prepped for the transplant."

"That's really something. I'm glad to know there are such kind people in this world", Milo commented.

"I don't want to be rude, Anna", Camus said. "And that is wonderful news about Fluer, but Milo and I are in a hurry. We've got to be at the airport in the next hour here to be on the flight at nine."

"I could drive you", Anna offered.

"Thank you, but we'll be fine."

"Alright. If you're sure..."

"I am. Thank you."

Milo started to inch his way back to the bathroom.

"No, Milo", Camus said, turning his attention to his friend. "You can't take a shower. No time."

"There's always time for showers", Milo replied.

Anna giggled.

"Clean freak?", she asked.

Camus snorted.

"Hardly. Our neat freak friend runs out of his room screaming."

"My room's not that bad", Milo said.

"Uh. May I remind you that Aiolia told you to clean it. That's a little bad."

Milo smiled.

"Well, since I can't shower and I don't feel like discussing my room, I'm going to go down to the lobby and pack up a few breakfast items to take on the plane with us."

Camus rose an eyebrow at him.

"Anna, it's been wonderful meeting you", Milo added. "See you next year."

He bounced out of the room. Camus shook his head.

"Well, I guess if you don't need a ride, I'll get out of your hair", Anna said softly.

"Sorry", Camus apologized, though he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for.

"Goodbye, Camus..."

Camus could not meet her gaze.

"Goodbye, Anna"

He heard her walk to the door. Say something more, he scolded himself.

"Hey", he called.

She turned and looked at him.

"We'll be back next year if circumstance allows. When I come back, you can introduce me to your boyfriend and laugh when he tries to beat me up."

Anna laughed.

"Bye, Camus."

And she was gone. Even as the door swung shut behind her, Camus knew the chances of seeing her again were practically zero.

* * *

"I have come to the conclusion that I don't like airplanes", Milo remarked a few hours later.

Camus rolled his eyes.

"I think you're actually afraid of heights. You were white as a ghost on that ski lift."

Milo snorted.

"I'm a gold Saint. I'm not afraid of some thing so silly."

"You're still human. Humans have fears. Look at Kanon-he's petrified of thunder storms."

Milo shook his head.

"I'm not afraid of heights."

"Ok" Camus settled back into his chair.

"I'm not!"

"I believe you."

Camus shut his eyes, attempting to get a little sleep before they were back in Athens.

"Camus?", Milo asked, just as Camus was starting to drift off.

"Hm?", Camus asked.

"Was that an insane vacation or what?"

Camus opened his eyes and chuckled.

"I was with you. I didn't expect it to be normal."

"Yeah, but look at how much happened-you got your first hang over, we saved a girl in the allyway, went on dates with the two dumbest women on the planet, got confused for playgirl models, I nearly broke my neck skiing and then got duped into playing Santa, you met a girl you actually liked, met up with your long-lost uncle, found out you were rich, then donated your fortune to save a sick girl's life..."

"I also went swimming in an ocean for the first time, caused you to get that cold of yours, and probably made it worse when I froze the pipes for the entire floor."

Milo chuckled.

"Well, I kind of considered that revenge since I set you up with Jewel-or was it Star?-and was the indirect cause of your hangover-do you remember thinking that dog was a rat?"

"I thought a dog was a rat?", Camus blinked.

"Yes, and you were babbling some nonsense about the rat barking at you."

"How drunk was I?", Camus demanded.

"Very drunk", Milo replied.

"I remember the hangover and cursing you out in French..."

"You were cursing me out?"

"Yup", Camus said.

Milo frowned.

"Now shut up and let me get some sleep", the Aquarius Saint closed his eyes again.

"Fine", Milo shot back. "I hope you choke on your pretzels."

"I could only hope to be so lucky."

The two friends fell silent.

Then they burst out laughing.

* * *

"Aquarius Camus and Scorpio Milo reporting back to Lady Athena", Camus said. He and Milo both knelt down respectfully before Pope Shion.

Shion smiled warmly at them.

"Did you have a nice vacation?", he asked them.

"It was interesting", Milo replied.

The Pope chuckled.

"I'll get Lady Athena for you. Wait here."

Shion disappeared. He returned a few moments later, their young goddess behind him.

"Welcome back", she greeted them.

"We got you something, Lady Athena", Milo said. He held out a small golden box to the girl.

"Thank you", she said, taking the box from Milo's hand.

Athena carefully opened the box and lifted the necklace out with her delicate fingers. She surveyed the pendant Milo had picked out while they were still in Mykonos.

"It will protect you, Milady. Whenever you don't have us around", Milo explained.

"Thank you", Athena repeated. She fastened the necklace around her throat and took them each by an arm. "Come. Tell me all about your vacation-and don't skimp on the details. It has been so quiet around here this past week."

The two young men allowed themselves to be led away by the teenage girl. After all, who were they to deny her what she wanted?

"Milady, I'll be more than happy to tell you the story about when Camus got drunk", Milo offered.

"I think she would rather hear about how you freaked out because of a little cold water."

Athena laughed.

"One story at a time, gentlemen."

Her beautiful eyes sparkled at them.

They smiled at each other. She wanted details, she would get details.

She was in for a long day.


End file.
